Chalkboard Impressions
by floatswithunicorns
Summary: Blaine is a student attending a private school. He realizes his feeling for his teacher, Kurt Hummel, and tries to deal with them the best he can.  Mature for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_Tap, tap, tap…_

The sound reverberated off of empty walls and high ceilings. There were a good eleven stalls, each of them vacant. Besides the sound of frantic footsteps, the bathroom was silent, despite the occasional rustle of pressed uniform trousers or quietly murmured, unfinished and broken by nerves. This was stupid. This was terribly stupid and desperate and a little bit pathetic.

Blaine couldn't help it. He was in _love_.

He should have just let it go the moment he understood. Instead of toying with the idea fondly, instead of taking interest in and wondering countless "_what ifs"_, he should have terminated the problem before it reached this level—_this _level, the one that had him pacing in the boys' bathroom at school, nervous and unable to so much as think straight because this was wrong—so very, very wrong and he knew it would never work.

This wasn't _just_ a boy after all, some guy Blaine went to school with. This was his _teacher_.

Blaine was suddenly and extremely grateful that his music theory class took place right before his lunch period, otherwise he would have all of six minutes to think this through, and it would be haphazard and half-baked. Instead, he had a good forty-five minutes to carefully and thoroughly think about what he wanted to do (he was often told that he didn't put enough thought into his actions; that he was an "act now, think later" kind of person and that it was bound to get him into trouble if he didn't start thinking things through).

God, it was hot in here though. Blaine tugged furiously at his tie, hands trembling as he loosened the knot and pulled it loose.

The seventeen year old had two choices here: he could either forget about it now, ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest whenever Mr. Hummel looked his way, the way it swelled in his chest whenever Mr. Hummel praised him for answering a question right or doing particularly well on an essay. Or he could do something about it. He could gather up his courage and march back to what would now be an empty classroom (thank God his music theory period was right before lunch) and tell Mr. Hummel exactly how he felt—that's what the magazines said he should do, anyway, and that it would help him overcome this obscenely unrealistic crush.

That was a lot easier said than done, though.

The idea had been slowly eating away at him since this morning. He'd spent all of last Friday zoning off in the middle of class, staring blankly at the whiteboard while his mind wandered in less-than-innocent directions as he lightly traced the contour of his ear (he'd always had a thing for ears—that and having his hair played with). If it wasn't for a classmate of his leaning over to ask if he was okay, Blaine never would have caught himself before he had a situation to take care of and that was possibly the most embarrassing thing to sit through in the middle of class. It wasn't just the zoning off in class and day dreaming that was getting to him, though; more than once he'd caught himself thinking of his music theory teacher in his more…personal moments and it was a reaching a level so inappropriate that Blaine couldn't stand to keep quiet about it anymore.

Of course he expected nothing to come of his confession, but that was what made it all the scarier. The idea of being shot down, even when he knew he had no shot, was still an unpleasant one. Mr. Hummel was his _teacher_—he would never, ever in a million years, if the world was ending tomorrow, if Blaine was the last man on earth, give Blaine a chance, and yet it was still going to crush whatever remaining self-esteem he had in him. It would not be the first time he'd been shot down, nor would it be the first time he'd be shot down by an older man, and probably not the last. In his freshman year of high school, he asked one of his friends to go to a school dance with him and apparently their age difference had been too much for him because he completely misunderstood the question and they ended up going as friends. When he transferred to his current school, there was another senior that he had a crush on, but freshman and seniors rarely, if ever, had lasting relationships.

It didn't end there, of course. Blaine was sort of a hopeless romantic and when he fell for someone, he fell hard. There were some cute boys around school, of course, but it was difficult to actually be attracted to them when they acted like just that—_boys_. They were loud, they were rough, they were careless, they were immature, and _all _they could think about was sex. Blaine was no saint by any means, but if was he was going to be in a relationship with any of these people, he wanted something meaningful, something emotional, and none of these boys were mature enough, mentally or emotionally, to give him that. His most recent failed endeavor included a young man, a mere nineteen years old (only two years older than himself), who worked as an assistant manager at the Gap and Blaine had really, really thought they had something between them. They talked on a fairly frequent basis, enough that they knew one another's sexual orientation, they went out for coffee, they confided in one another. Blaine swore he was in love and that he and Jeremiah would get married and everything would be perfect and they would love each other forever.

Rejection tore his hopes to shreds and that was the day Blaine realized that he wasn't much more than just a boy himself.

Today his expectations were low. He wanted to better himself and he had to start here, before these thoughts of running off with his high school teacher turned obsessive, before he got lost in a fantasy and did something embarrassing. The circumstances weren't the same as with Jeremiah—the feelings were worse, were _more_, and he couldn't _stop _seeing his teacher if he did something mortifying like attempt to serenade him over the intercom. It was in his best interest to just get it out of the way while he was still thinking clearly and then take a deep breath, listen to and accept his rejection, and move on with life. He couldn't keep trying to force his feelings on people, especially when they resulted-or could result-in getting said person fired. And Blaine knew himself well enough to understand that if he didn't say something—like, _today_—he was bound to let something slip in the middle of class and get Mr. Hummel into trouble. The idea made his heart drop, fear shooting through his very veins that the rumors would start and Mr. Hummel would be forced to leave the school and hate him as a result.

That decided it then, didn't it?

Blaine stopped pacing, swiveling his hips to look into the mirror and it was a horrible idea. Seeing himself so undone and nervous and _scared _only increased everything he was feeling. His hands were already shaking and clammy; his hair was unruly and sticking up at odd angles from the number of times he'd ran his hands through it and pulled at the roots. His eyes were wide and terrified, flicking nervously, and it wasn't helping matters that he was really struggling to come off as adult and grown-up in this endeavor and yet looked so…childish, so much like a child who just wanted his mother to take care of his troubles that it was embarrassing. Blaine stepped towards the sink, running his hands under cool water and trying desperately to get some of his unruly curls to lie back down (all _that _managed to do, however, was loosen up even more of his hair from the restraints of gel). He looked sick with nerves and the knowledge made his stomach drop even further.

"This is a horrible idea," he hissed to himself, wrenching his tie away from his neck and hastily retying it, shaking his head in disbelief. Having such a limited number of friends (none of whom were actually good or supporting enough to confide in about something like this) had made this—talking to himself, trying to dissuade himself from doing stupid things such as this—a fairly common habit. "Stupid," he muttered, straightening up and flattening the lapels of his blazer before giving himself an unimpressed once-over. The seventeen year old shook his head and released sigh, hoisting his book bag over his shoulder as he left the bathroom and started back down the same path, away from the lunchroom, back towards class. With every step he took, his thoughts grew more and more frantic, his legs more and more like lead.

This was stupid. What was he thinking? He was going to regret this tomorrow. Why did he insist on doing these things to himself? Fifteen minutes from now, he would be the epitome of self-loathing. When was he going to learn to just let things go?

Maybe the door would be closed. Locked. Lights off. Maybe Mr. Hummel would have left the room already for lunch, disappeared to a teachers' lounge or his office or something. Teachers had to eat, too, after all.

Oh.

The door was open.

How had Blaine gotten here so fast? Mr. Hummel was right there, at his desk; it looked like he was reading something, though what it was, Blaine couldn't tell. It seemed awful to interrupt him…

No, he shouldn't be here. This was a truly horrible idea. He should be back in the lunchroom right now with his classmates. He should be picking through a plate of nachos right now, contemplating the idea that just _maybe_ the chicken burger would be enough to end his life if he was a suicidal person. This was the last place Blaine should be, in his teacher's doorway, actually considering the idea of spilling his feelings for a man seven years older than him.

Oh, _God_, he had to get out of here.

"Oh, Mr. Anderson!"

Crap.

Blaine's mind raced for excuses, anything from forgetting one of his school supplies to asking Mr. Hummel how he handled growing up a gay teen in this day and age (although, it was right to assume something like that, and Blaine couldn't recall Mr. Hummel ever exclusively stating his sexual orientation). But when his eyes and attention focused on Mr. Hummel, Blaine saw his teacher smiling brightly at him and every excuse fled his mind.

"How's my favorite student?" he asked, his voice bright and cheerful, like Christmas bells.

And then his words sank in.

Blaine blinked once, his heart throbbing in his chest. He could practically hear the blood rushing through his veins, heating his body up and making his hands clammy. "…Y-You're not just saying that, are you?" he asked, uncertainty sprinkled into the words.

An almost impish laugh escaped Mr. Hummel's lips, a smile that reached his eyes gracing his face and Blaine would swear he was looking an angel. His eyes glittered like a sun-kissed sea and Blaine stopped breathing. "Of course not! Clearly your schoolwork is important to you; if everyone put half as much effort into their work as you do,

"Oh…" Blaine said lamely, his voice a lot lighter and more airy than he remembered it.

"So, what can I do for you today, Blaine? I hope you're not in here to bargain about your last grade. Look, Mr. Anderson, I believe an A- is more than fair." And then he _winked_.

Was he…was Mr. Hummel—his teacher…was his teacher _flirting _with him? …No. No, he was just being nice. Mr. Hummel was always like this. He was always nice, everyone's favorite teacher. Still, Blaine felt hot and flustered and this was no longer some silly teenage fantasy—he needed to tell Mr. Hummel now, if not just to get it out of the way, than so that maybe he would stop doing things like this. Like winking and calling Blaine his "favorite student", because really all it did was encourage him and the last thing Blaine needed, he would admit, was encouragement.

"Actually, Mr. Hummel," Blaine started, his voice quavering slightly with nerves, "if it's okay, I just…wanted to talk to you." His short fingernails dug into the strap of his bag, giving him something to hold on to so that—hopefully—his nerves weren't quite so obvious. That still left the matter of his right hand, which fiddled and toyed anxiously with the hem of his blazer. Blaine swallowed hard, glancing to the window and the whiteboard, staring blankly as he tried to gather his thoughts.

Blaine could practically feel the atmosphere shift and when he looked back at Mr. Hummel, hanging his head slightly, his features were washed over with concern. "Blaine, is everything okay?" he asked cautiously, appearing almost alarmed by Blaine's behavior.

Blaine had no choice. He couldn't turn back now, and besides, he'd go crazy by next week if he didn't say something now. He'd regret not saying something the minute he got home. It was best to just do it now. So Blaine took a deep breath and raised his head, nodding his head and trying to smile. "Yeah, everything's fine," he assured, urging his legs to move forward, to at least walk in from the doorway so he maybe he wouldn't look so awfully timid. Blaine drew to a stop at the edge of Mr. Hummel's desk, willing himself to hold eye contact, especially considering Mr. Hummel had taken the trouble of putting his pen down and the stack of papers he appeared to be grading, and even bothered to angle his chair toward Blaine. "Um…" the senior continued, biting his tongue a moment later and silently cursing himself for starting that way. "I mean, if you could, just let me talk…just listen…until I'm finished, at least, because I just really, really need to get this off my chest."

"Okay," Mr. Hummel stated simply, folding his hands neatly atop his desk.

Blaine's heart fluttered. Mr. Hummel just looked so absolutely attentive, as if Blaine was the only person in the universe, and Blaine couldn't remember the last time someone paid _that _much attention to him, the last time someone cared _that _much about anything he had to say. Blaine shifted his weight and let his eyes settle firmly on Mr. Hummel's, grateful for the patience because it was really taking him too long to get the words out. "This is going to sound really stupid—and it _is _stupid, but I need you to just hear me out." Blaine watched Mr. Hummel nod silently, allowing him to continue, so he took a final, shaky breath, and talked. "I like you. Not just in the favorite-teacher, 'I really look up to you as a mentor' kind of way. I'm attracted to you, and I know I'm young and it's wrong—normal, in many cases, but still wrong—but it's reached a point where I don't feel like I'm just going to get over it any time soon, and I know you can't do anything about it or…reciprocate in any way, but I've been reading self-help kinds of books, and websites offering help to teenagers and…every single one says that the best way to at least alleviate these feelings is to inform the subject, and it also gives each party a chance. On the one hand, it gives me a chance to get over my feelings, or it gives you do like me back, it gives you a chance to let me know—er," Blaine stuttered, finally realizing his mistake in making this too personal. "I mean, not that you…you can't, I know, but it's just the principle. The point I'm trying to make is that I just really needed a chance to tell you about my feelings so that I at least have a chance of getting over them."

Silence.

Dead silence.

Blaine wasn't sure what he expected, certainly not this intense silence, though. Mr. Hummel was staring at his desk now, his expression unreadable. He didn't appear angry or shocked or disgusted or…anything. If nothing else, he looked pensive, maybe, contemplative, as if he was actually considering Blaine's words. Blaine watched him with baited breath, hazel eyes wide and fearful. Maybe this was too far. Maybe he'd gone too far this time. He _did _have a habit of not thinking things all the way through—in this instance, he'd only thought up to this point, the confession. He didn't consider the consequences, how Mr. Hummel might feel, what he might have to say, how _weird _this might make things in their next class.

Things happened so fast. Blaine blinked and Mr. Hummel was out of seat, striding across the classroom to the door. "M-Mr. Hummel?" Blaine asked warily, turning on his heel to watch as he shut the door lightly, hardly making a noise in doing so. "I-I'm sorry—that was stupid of me, but I was just out there and no one's there, but I-I should have closed the door—"

And then there was Mr. Hummel, standing right in front of him, _less _than a foot in front of him, staring down at him sternly. "Are you quite finished?" he asked, impatience tainting his usually tranquil tone.

Certain that he had upset Mr. Hummel, Blaine took half a step back, looking down at his feet. "I…yes. I'm sorry…I didn't mean to—"

And before Blaine could fully grasp what was happening, Mr. Hummel's hands were against his face, cool and soft but firm with what felt like very little chance of letting go, and in a tidal wave of feeling and emotion, their lips crashed together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

If someone had told Kurt that he would be kissing boys today, he would have laughed at them. Kurt's life for the past three months had been the life of a monk, not that he was ever particularly promiscuous before. Most of his romantic life was either small flings or occasional hook-ups. It's not that he didn't want to find love, but Kurt seemed to attract a very specific type of person, being a very small private-school-teacher. Quite frankly, he never did understand the school teacher kink.

Moreover, if someone had told him he'd be kissing one of his students, the _reason_ he'd been a monk for the past three months, he would have laughed in their face. It was ridiculous for him to be attracted to a student. It was sick, even. Kurt was an authority figure. He knew better than this.

But at the same time, Kurt was barely twenty-four years old and Blaine was more than attractive. He was smart and funny and witty and had possibly one of the cutest personalities Kurt had ever come across. So when the boy entered his Advanced Placement Music Theory class on September fifth, Kurt swore to himself that he wouldn't treat this boy any differently. He swore that he would never show any sort of affection. He swore that this boy wouldn't get any special privileges. He also stopped trying to meet new people.

It started off gradual. He would go still go to the bar and try to flirt, but found himself completely uninterested. Then he went and blew off pursuers. Finally he stopped going out all together, spare a few times with his coworkers. When others questioned him about it, he said he needed some time to find himself or some other poor and blatant lie. Nonetheless, people still dropped the subject despite noticing Kurt's lies.

Despite the promises he made to himself, Kurt still noticed himself giving a bit of special attention to Blaine. He was always kinder to the boy, words bordering on the edge of what's appropriate and not. He blamed any sort of affection or attraction Blaine seemed to reciprocate on wishful thinking, enjoying his imagination allowing itself to believe that Blaine was batting his eyelashes at him or daydreaming about less-than-appropriate actions.

Now, though, he could see that everything Blaine did, every time Kurt thought it was just his imagination going wild, it was really Blaine crushing on him. Part of the reason he couldn't speak while Blaine made his confession was because his heart and stomach had lurched into his throat. He wanted to stop Blaine's monologue, preferably with his lips, but he was frozen, half in fear and half in excitement.

So, here he was, his lips pressed against Blaine's, eyes closed as his thumb rubbed circles against Blaine's cheek. His head was tilted ever so slightly to the side, unable to help prevent the slightest of grins against the boy's lips as his thumb rubbed against some stubble that Blaine probably missed in his shaving routine. It was adorable. _Blaine_ was adorable. Without any sense of restraint, Kurt wrapped an arm around Blaine, bringing him in closer before finally ending what felt like an all-too-chaste kiss.

His eyes scanned Blaine's face for a reaction, but the boy seemed lost for words. He looked like he'd been knocked off the world, stuck in an astral plane. Kurt chuckled at Blaine's daze, leaning close enough to whisper against the other's lips, "I still won't give you anymore than an A- on that paper, Mr. Anderson." He knew the action was more than cruel, teasing and taunting to Blaine. He felt Blaine's shiver before finally letting Blaine go, returning to the chair behind his desk.

If Blaine hadn't been love struck, he probably would have noticed the heat that had rushed to Kurt's face. Instead, Blaine placed his palms on Kurt's desk, seemingly to hold himself up. It amused Kurt that he had this much of an affect over Blaine.

"...Wait, so you like me back?" It took all of Kurt's will and power not to laugh. He was half tempted to tell Blaine no, just to see how he would react. Kurt may be cruel, but he wasn't a sadist, so he responded more kindly than his initial reaction would have allowed him.

"Yes, Blaine. I don't know about you, but I don't typically kiss people I don't like." He raised an eyebrow at the boy, his brain beginning to rake over the situation. _Shit, shit, shit. I just kissed a student. Shit, shit, shit._

It was almost as if Blaine could read his mind. "I won't tell anybody." Kurt smiled as the boy nervously shuffled from foot to foot, still excited from what may have just been his first kiss. Shit, Kurt had never considered that. "We'll be like...a secret." Blaine grinned. _Oh God, this boy has read too many romance novels...or watched too much porn._

Blaine shuffled a bit more, before following Kurt behind his desk. "Mr. Hummel?"

"Hm?"

"...Can I have one more?" Kurt chuckled, shaking his head and checking at the door again. It was still closed, so Kurt tugged Blaine down by the tie and pressed another kiss on his lips, trying not to let his mind wander as Blaine let out a soft moan. It should be illegal for that boy to make that kind of noise.

"We really have to stop before someone comes in." His better half was saying this, because if he really had his way, he'd have Blaine over his desk with his pants down. Well, he wouldn't actually, because he was already making his amends about how this "dating a seventeen year old boy" thing was going to work. He'd decided that he was going to take it slow and let Blaine decide when he was ready for anything. For _everything_.

Kurt opened a drawer of his, grabbing a sheet of paper and ripping a piece off. Taking a pen, he scribbled down his phone number and folded the paper up, tucking it in Blaine's pocket for him. "My number. Text me, okay?" It felt terribly wrong but perfectly right to be doing this, and he was about to lean in for another kiss when he heard the door click open.

"...Mr. Anderson, I've told you, that paper was _good_, but it wasn't worthy of anything better than an A-." Kurt staged. It took a second for Blaine to catch on, but he finally did as he looked at the door, noticing Mr. Puckerman standing there. Noah was a math teacher, and quite frankly, he had no sense of tact or privacy; a closed door never stopping that man from barging in. It was getting to the point where Kurt was beginning to believe that Noah actually wanted to catch a teacher having sex. Actually, he even looked a bit disappointed...

"Yes, sir." Blaine put on his best sad face before turning on a heel and scurrying out. Kurt's fingers gripped onto the edge of his desk, turning to face Puck as he tried to swallow his frustration. Puck raised an eyebrow as Blaine passed by him out the door.

"Noah? Did you need something?" Noah was giving him this positively perverted face, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

"No, no. I mean, some of the other teachers and I were going out to get lunch, but, you know, if _you're busy..._"

"Noah Puckerman, are you suggesting I was having _relations with a student?_ That's a pretty serious accusation, so if you wouldn't mind shutting your trap before you get me fired for your stupidity..." Kurt lifted a sandwich in a Ziploc bag, "I'm actually taken care of." Frowning, he sat down, opening the Ziploc bag.

"'Kay, man, but hey, in all seriousness, if you don't want rumors flying off the wall, you probably shouldn't close the door with just one student in here. I trust you, but not everyone will." Puck's face had gone serious, and he was giving Kurt a warning look. Despite having their differences, Puck had always been someone to look out for Kurt. When Kurt was fighting for more money for the arts, Puck was there. When Kurt was being harassed by some student's parents, Puck was there. When Kurt was trying to convince the board that he really was ready to teach Advanced Placement classes, Puck was there. So when Puck was honestly trying to give him some good advice, he couldn't help but nod and try to swallow his guilt and pride.

Once Puck left, Kurt finally crumpled under the realization of what had just occurred. He kissed a student. He kissed _Blaine_. Possibly his best, kindest, most thoughtful student he'd ever come across, though he hadn't been teaching long enough to have many candidates for "The Best". Even so, he was sure Blaine would remain the best, and not just because Blaine made his heart beat just a little faster when his hand raised or when Kurt caught him passing notes in class.

Kurt pressed his finger tips to his lips, sighing like a smitten school girl. Was he crazy? Probably. He didn't even care at this point, though. If he had no risk of being caught, Kurt would have been doodling "Kurt + Blaine" everywhere. He wasn't good a hiding his affection, and he knew this could prove to be troubling in the near future.

The rest of the day passed slowly. He kept his phone in the desk, checking every few minutes to see if anyone had texted him. More importantly, he kept checking to see if Blaine texted him. He realized the boy was busy, though, and teachers were very strict about cell phone policies.

Instead, he got Blaine standing in his classroom door way. Most of the other students had left, not wanting to spend any extra (or, as they deemed, "unnecessary") time at school. Blaine looked terribly shy, much like he did before admitting his crush.

"Mr. Hummel?"

"Mr. Anderson?"

"...I missed the bus. Could I have a ride home?" A coy smile rested on Blaine's face. He'd obviously _purposely _missed the bus, but Kurt didn't have any real objection to this.

"Could I have just a few minutes to gather my stuff?" Blaine was nodding before Kurt could even finish his sentence, sitting at one of the desks in the back row. He was quiet, so quiet it made Kurt miserable. So he rushed to gather his things before leading the boy out to his car.

It wasn't technically against school rules to drive a student home, but it was highly frowned upon. "_Fuck it._" Kurt thought. "_Bringing a boy home isn't the worst thing I'm doing._"

Blaine raised his eyebrows at Kurt's car. It wasn't a shitty car by any means, which is probably what Blaine expected. It was just a modest, black Toyota Corolla. If he had his way, he'd probably have a sports car, but it wasn't practical on his salary. Especially not when he blew a lot of his money on designer clothes...

Beeping to signal it was unlocked, both of them slid in the vehicle. Blaine locked the door once in, eyes focused on his lap. "Mr. Hummel-"

"Kurt."

"What?"

"In private, you can call me Kurt." It filled his entire body with happiness when Blaine's face lit up at that permission.

"...Kurt, what are we?"

"What?"

"What. Are. We?" It took a second for Kurt to finally catch on, but he realized Blaine meant their relationship status. He chuckled, looking over at Blaine.

"Well, I certainly don't plan on dating anyone else."

"..."

"...Blaine, if you want to be boyfriends, we can be, but I don't want to pressure you into anything."

"Fine, then...I'm yours."

"What?" Kurt was really trying to hold in a laugh. Blaine just seemed so serious about this.

"Isn't that what people say when they're together?"

"If they're from the 1920's." He turned the keys in the ignition, finally laughing. Blaine was either old fashioned or a hopeless romantic, Kurt couldn't really tell. Either way, it was adorable.

They rode in silence, and Kurt didn't really know where he was going. Occasionally, Blaine would tell him to take a turn, but for the most part he seemed embarrassed. Or thinking, Kurt wasn't perfect at reading Blaine.

"Mr. H-Kurt?"

"Hm?"

"What if we went to your place?" Kurt gripped onto his steering wheel, trying to keep calm. Blaine was asking to _go to his place_, and if it had been anyone else he probably would have said yes. If Blaine had just been a few months older...

"I don't think that's a good idea, Blaine." The puppy dog look he got in return nearly killed him. "I mean, I'd love to have you over, really." He glanced over, not able to hold eye contact as he had to keep his eyes on the road. "But, I don't think you are ready to go anywhere near there. We're in a secret relationship that could cost me my job and reputation..."

He felt nauseated saying that, realizing how horrible this could end up. "And you're only seventeen. There's a lot that you aren't ready for..."

"Kurt, even you said we don't have to go there..."

"Blaine, it'll eventually happen, but I just kissed you for the first time mere hours ago. Slow it down." Blaine nodded, and it was still killing Kurt to see him like this. Letting out a sigh, Kurt finally pulled up to Blaine's house.

"My parents aren't home, you can..."

"It'd be best if I didn't." Blaine unbuckled his seat belt, looking up with a pleading expression. Then, the boy practically launched himself at Kurt, pretty much assaulting him with his lips. Kurt nudged him off. "Blaine, calm down." Licking his lips, he leaned in close, nearly connecting their lips before he stopped, whispering. "Sometimes, taking it slower is better." Blaine was craning his neck, very nearly begging for more. Being the kind soul he is, Kurt placed a hand behind Blaine's head, finally connecting their lips. He wasn't exactly nervous anyone would see them. The chances of that happening here were slim to none. Despite trying to show Blaine that slower was better, he was still eager and wanting more. It wasn't surprising; he _was_ a seventeen year old boy.

Kurt felt like everything he'd done today was against his better judgement, and letting Blaine deepen the kiss was just another one. He soon found himself with Blaine's tongue in his mouth, his tie loosened, and a hand on his thigh. _A hand on his thigh_.

Kurt nudged him back. "It's just day one. You have homework. I have...stuff." His mind wasn't working. He wasn't horny yet by any means, but..._a hand on his thigh_. Blaine nodded, getting out of the car. Before he closed the door, he leaned, peeping his head back in. Kurt thought he was coming for another kiss, so he leaned in to allow the boy one more peck. As their lips were about to connect, Blaine stopped, grinned, and whispered against Kurt's lips. "Thanks for today."

And then the door was closed and Kurt was left alone, a groan bubbling up in frustration. He'd taught that move to Blaine mere seconds ago and Blaine had the audacity to use it against him.

Kurt drove home and decided to get ready for bed early, taking a shower and going through his moisturizing routine not long after he walked through the door. He was watching _Jersey Shore_ in a face mask while he indulged on mint chocolate chip ice cream. That was when the flood of texts from Blaine started.

_Thanks for today._

_You're amazing._

_You're cute._

_I like you._

_Are you busy?_

_Wanna talk?_

_I can call you?_

_Or you can call me._

_Either one is fine._

Kurt rolled his eyes, calling Blaine.

"_Hello?_"

"Blaine?"

"_Yeah! Hey Kurt._"

"Hey. You text too much. It'd be more annoying if you weren't so cute." Silence. Did he kill the boy?

"_Thank you, Kurt. Um, that's really sweet. Kurt?_" He was trying not to shift. The way Blaine said that sent a ball of nerves to his stomach.

"Hm?"

"_Do you think I'm anything more than cute? Like...hot?_" He was not going there with Blaine. Not yet, anyways.

"You push a lot, Blaine. I think you are handsome and funny and amazing. Is that a good enough answer?"

"_Yeah. Hey, Kurt?_"

"Hm?"

"_I like you, a lot._" He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Blaine? You are probably the biggest dork I've ever met. It's cute. You need to go to bed, though."

"_It's not that late!_"

"Goodnight, Blaine." And he hung out, only to be attacked by another mass of texts.

_You're evil._

_It's not even that late._

_I like you._

_I like you a lot._

_Goodnight, Kurt._

_Sleep well._

_Sweet dreams._

_I can't wait to see you in class tomorrow._

_You have beautiful eyes._

_This is embarrassing._

_I don't realize it's embarrassing until I've sent it..._

_Bye._

Kurt stared at the phone, smirking. He'd have to invest in unlimited texting with this boy, but it was certainly worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Everything was going so smoothly. There were no bumps in the road, no unfortunate mishaps, no secrets spilled. The only problem might have been Blaine's undeniable happiness—no…it was more like _giddiness_. He was maybe too happy, even in comparison to his usual almost puppy-like exterior. His friends had since taken notice of the change in his behavior, cracking jokes and making comments about his caffeine intake and how if he drank anymore coffee than he already was, his growth wouldn't be so much _stunted_ as he'd just start shrinking. Luckily, none of them seemed to expect anything of it, and Blaine was suddenly incredibly grateful for Jeff's inability to focus on any one thing for too long, otherwise he would have noticed something by now.

Considering they shared Blaine's Advanced Placement Music Theory class and all.

Blaine tried to pay attention in class-he really, really tried, but his attention on the actual course and everything Mr. Hummel was saying seemed to direct itself entirely on Mr. Hummel instead. About halfway through class on Monday, he stopped taking notes. His mind wandered to the day before yesterday when he had stayed up well into the early hours of the morning texting Kurt. On several occasions, he tried to turn them in a slightly less innocent direction, but it never seemed to work in his favor. Kurt almost always deflected, if not flat out told him to calm down again, to which Blaine excitedly replied that he couldn't, conveniently leaving out the part about how dating Kurt-dating his _teacher_-was beyond any _reasonable _fantasy that he ever imagined could possibly come true.

More and more often, he found himself getting lost in the sound of Mr. Hummel's voice, rather than the words he was actually speaking. More often than not, he found himself staring at the particular way the light reflected off of his eyes-which, after a few more car rides home, he had begun to realize were constantly changing color. From blue, to green, to grey, to any mixture of the two and in the course of just a week, Blaine had gotten lost within them innumerable times. Equally as often, Blaine caught himself staring at Mr. Hummel's lips, staring at them in a way that could only be described as longingly.

On Wednesday, Blaine purposely left his textbook underneath his desk, just so he had an excuse to return to class if only for a few minutes of privacy with Kurt because, really, he couldn't go the _whole _day without having a moment alone, whether it was for a kiss or just to talk. As much as he would have liked to, however, he couldn't stay for the entire lunch period. If not because there was always the threat of Mr. Puckerman walking in, than because his friends would start to wonder where he'd gone off to-or worse, why he was taking so long in retrieving his book.

Kurt driving him home quickly became an unbreakable routine. Blaine told his friends that he needed to stay late to study in the library which-he would like to point out-was not entirely a lie because he generally _did _study in the library until most of the school had emptied. At that point, he headed towards Mr. Hummel's classroom and, if the door was open, poked his head in with a smile and a nervous wrinkle in his brow because he still wasn't quite used to all of this. Mr. Hummel was, after all, his first relationship and Blaine was a bit uncertain about a few things, and the fact that this was his teacher and had to be kept under wraps made things even more difficult. When he was confused or wondering if he was doing things right, there was no one he could go to for advice except Kurt, but he imagined Kurt would just tell him that he was doing fine and not to worry about it.

So he kept his worries to himself and sidled into the classroom every day in the hopes that Kurt would agree to give him a ride home. On Friday, he asked if Kurt wanted to come in his house for the third time, hoping for a different answer this time, but apparently Kurt was as much old fashioned as Blaine was because he still refused, commenting on the fact that they hadn't even gone on a real date yet and jumping that far ahead would be inappropriate.

_-_

_"Well, when _can _we go on a date?" Blaine had asked eagerly, his voice little more than a desperate whine. "Why not now? It's the weekend. I don't have anything to do today or tomorrow. My parents won't even be home until late tonight, so it won't matter how late we stay out."_

_Kurt gave him a disapproving look, a look that Blaine had come to know as a warning just in the past week. "Did you consider the idea maybe _I_ have plans tonight, Blaine?" he retorted with a snap, causing Blaine's hazel eyes to widen for a moment._

_"I'm sorry," the boy mumbled, looking at his hands because it dawned on him that he really was just thinking about his own needs in the moment, and he'd read about this stuff and how it could easily tear a relationship apart. He needed to think more about what Kurt wanted as well._

_Kurt's eyes softened and Blaine heard a patient sigh before Kurt's hand was wrapped over his with a reassuring squeeze. "Besides, I will not have our first date be a last minute decision made on the whim of your hormones."_

_Blaine looked up his boyfriend through his eyelashes, the corners of his lips twitching upwards in an apologetic smile, silently asking that Kurt just bare with him for a little longer, until he could get the hang of all of this._

_The smile quickly turned into a real one as Kurt leaned in to press a kiss to his lips._

-

Blaine didn't have to wait too terribly long for an answer to his question regarding their first date, though. In class on Monday, Blaine was in the middle of taking notes (or possibly writing a note to pass to Jeff...) when Mr. Hummel called him out in the middle of class and asked him to stay afterwards for a word with him (Jeff seemed especially amused, considering he was generally the one to get caught passing notes). Blaine sat in ashamed silence for the rest of the period, trying to send Kurt all of his apologies by paying the utmost attention to everything he said and only taking notes on the subject at hand.

By the end of the class, Blaine had worked up an entire dialogue of an apology (which may or may not have ended with an intense make-out session and-well, actually it stopped there because if he thought any more about it he was going to have a problem) and was ready to spill all of it to Kurt as the last of the students filed out of class, to say "I'm sorry" a hundred times over and promise to pay more attention. He was just about to push himself out of his desk when Mr. Hummel asked him over to the desk. Blaine gathered his things with a sigh, shoving them hastily into his bag and trudging over to stand in front of Mr. Hummel's desk.

"Are you busy this weekend?" Confusion set over Blaine's face. It seemed like an odd question to ask.

"No?" His speech lingered with question and confusion.

And that was when Mr. Hummel told him he would be attending a musical on the following Saturday.

Blaine stared at him blankly for a moment, blinking uncertainly. "For...extra credit or something?" he asked, hazel eyes searching blue anxiously, wondering if maybe all his time spent staring at Mr. Hummel was affecting his grade.

Mr. Hummel shuffled some papers on his desk, emitting another patient sigh, and looked up pointedly at Blaine. "Yes, Mr. Anderson. For _extra credit_," he emphasized very carefully in a way that made Blaine shift from one foot to the other and glance at the floor, confusion written across his face. Clearly Blaine wasn't doing as well in class as he thought-even if he _did _tend to get lost everything that was Mr. Hummel, everything that was _Kurt_, he thought he was holding up pretty well in class. Apparently, that wasn't the case.

An indignant huff reached Blaine's ears, and his name hissed through perfectly sculpted lips caused him to look up. "_Blaine_." Hazel eyes focused on blue, a pout on his lips the seventeen year old took an uncomfortable step backwards, feeling much like a child scolded. "And-to be absolutely sure that you _do _attend the play and are paying adequate attention-I will be going with you."

"Oh," was all Blaine said, his voice glum as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong.

And then the words sunk in.

"_Oh_!" Blaine exclaimed suddenly, hands tightening around the strap of his shoulder bag excitedly as he understood exactly what Mr. Hummel was saying. His eyes were bright and a little overexcited as he smiled at Mr. Hummel now, nodding fervently. "Right, of course. I'll be there, Mr. Hummel."

Mr. Hummel kind of looked like he might have a headache, glancing at the open doorway warily (which Blaine figured he could understand...not many students would be excited for an extra credit assignment, even if it was something as cool watching a musical) and Blaine grinned sheepishly before bidding his teacher goodbye and heading to lunch.

It wasn't ten minutes later that Blaine's phone vibrated as notification of a new text.

_You _do _understand this is our first date, right?_

It was only the smallest bit offensive because Blaine knew he was pretty damn oblivious sometimes.

_Yes, I know. Sorry-it just took me a minute._

He expected some sort of witty retort, but no response ever came, leaving Blaine to figure Mr. Puckerman must have stopped by again.

The rest of the week passed by painfully slow. It was difficult for Blaine to remain interested in _any _of his classes when all he could do was think about his date-his first _real _date with his first real boyfriend. Blaine couldn't help but think, just a little bitterly, that at least Mr. Hummel had the good grace not to call him out on it every time he was caught staring into the distance, or blankly at the whiteboard, and Blaine constantly had to remind himself that that was because Mr. Hummel clearly knew _why _he was so lacking in attentiveness. It was difficult to come up with reasonable excuses, and by mid-Wednesday, Blaine was trying to force his thoughts onto his schoolwork, doing anything he could to make sure they didn't stray to what Mr. Hummel might be doing right at that moment, or what he was doing yesterday as they texted, or what he might have done _after_ they texted-and that was exactly why Blaine needed to just stop thinking.

He managed well enough through the rest of Wednesday and Thursday went by alright. However, by Friday Blaine's excitement had reached an uncontrollable level. He tapped his pen against his desk, drummed his fingers impatiently against his knee, read the same sentences over and over again, and was too busy thinking about the musical at lunch that he ran into Wes and almost tripped him into David. It was a miracle nobody dropped their lunch.

Wes and Thad's probing stares were beginning to worry Blaine more than the prospect of Mr. Puckerman walking in during a brief lunchtime make-out session. Blaine had always had trouble hiding his emotions, or keeping secrets in general, but this was one he was _determined _not to let slip to anyone. That was an easy accomplishment to avoid verbally, but Blaine was beginning to think that maybe he was being _too _obvious. He wondered if Jeff had caught on to his crush, maybe let something slip to Wes and David, or Thad and Nick, and now every time he took a little longer in getting to the lunchroom their suspicions were growing, or that they knew he wasn't really stopping at the restroom halfway through their lunch period. Maybe Blaine was being too paranoid...or maybe he wasn't worrying enough.

Luckily, it was only half more of a school day before he could just let go and be as excited as he pleased. Blaine all but bounded into Mr. Hummel's class, practically skidding into the open door and asked if Kurt was ready to go, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Kurt packed his car ride was not _nearly _as awkward as the first ride to Blaine's house; he talked nonstop about tomorrow night, hardly even managing to remember the name of the show. Blaine listed everything they could do that they couldn't do in public, everything he _wanted _to do, from smiling completely unguarded, to saying "I like you" without feeling afraid of being overheard, to holding Kurt's hand, to kissing him.

Too soon they pulled up to Blaine's house. They both leaned in for a kiss, Blaine desperately wanting more than he was receiving. It was becoming an every day after school routine, the way Blaine leaned in to meet Kurt halfway, always pressing harder for deeper kisses, and every time Kurt would stop him. Blaine understood why of course, but he had no way of knowing that it was just as difficult for Kurt to stop him as it was for Blaine to actually listen to these requests or ignore the temptation to leap forward again. He had no way knowing that Mr. Hummel's desires were rising just as frequent, just as intense as his own.

Saturday dragged by at a sluggish pace. Blaine woke up around nine-thirty in his excitement, trying desperately to get in more sleep before finally getting up at ten. For a while, all he wanted to do was sit on his bed, legs curled beneath him, a bowl of cereal in his lap, and Saturday morning cartoons on his television. He meant to get some homework finished, as was his usual weekend routine, but his brain was too focused on later that night to function properly. Blaine spent a few hours in his pajamas, looking for just about _anything _to do while he waited for an appropriate time to actually start getting ready, including cleaning his room (though he was organized enough that there really wasn't much to do) and wasting another hour attempting to finish an assignment that wasn't even due until the end of next week.

It was two hours before Kurt was supposed to pick him up when he finally decided he couldn't wait any longer and dug through his closet for one of his nicest suits and lying it over his bed before taking a quick shower, spending a bit more time on his hair than usual, and then getting dressed. Usually Blaine wasn't _so _particular about his clothing, but tonight he checked every inch of his shirt for a wrinkle to iron out, made sure there wasn't a single loose thread on his jacket, and continually smoothed out his pant legs, desperately wanting everything to be perfect.

Blaine had already changed his tie four times when Kurt arrived (Blaine had texted him earlier to let him know that his parents would be out and he could actually come to the door if he wanted), and was just barely saved from changing it again by the knock on the door. Blaine tossed his handful of ties down on his bed and fled the room, skipping down the stairs two at a time and leaping off the last three. There was no doubt in his mind that Kurt heard him thundering down the stairs, but he still tried to compose himself as he reached the front door, making his curls were lying flat before he pulled the door open.

His heartbeat doubled in speed just laying eyes on his teacher. Of course Mr. Hummel _always _looked nice, but this was entirely different. He wasn't dressed like a teacher or an authority figure, and considering that looked like a designer suit, it wasn't _just _Kurt, but it was a definite step closer. At least Blaine had just that much more insight into Kurt. The idea made his smile broaden a little ridiculously.

"Hi," Blaine greeted a little breathlessly.

"Good evening, Blaine." The fact that Kurt was smiling just the slightest bit (and Blaine _knew _that smile was just for him), made the butterflies go absolutely crazy in Blaine's stomach. Blaine knew he must look like a bit of an idiot, utterly love-struck and absolutely smitten, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Are you ready to go?"

Blaine nodded vigorously and followed Kurt out to the car, taking his usual place in the passenger seat and buckling up as Kurt started the car. As usual, the drive was an even mix of conversation and silence, but it never really felt awkward. Maybe just a little, sometimes, but that was what dates were for, right? To get to know each other better, to eliminate any awkwardness, to keep building a relationship towards that level of comfort between one another where silence was just normal.

It wasn't a terribly long drive and there was just so much to see when they entered the building that everything was kind of a blur. Before Blaine knew it, he and Kurt were slipping through the doors into the theater, clambering gracefully (well, gracefully in Kurt's case) over other people to find their seats. They talked as they waited for the show to start, their voices not quite hushed, but at an appropriate "indoor voice" level. Everyone here was so well-mannered that there was no need to yell over one another to be heard. It was nice, except it sort of reminded Blaine of one of his parents' dinner parties, especially taking into account how nice everyone was dressed.

Blaine was just talking about one of his other classes and the homework assigned to him for the week, how little he really cared for that class and how the workload was a little unfair and how everyone agreed with him when he felt Kurt's fingers working their way around his own. Blaine paused mid-sentence to look down, unable to help the softening of his eyes or the light smile on his face. He wasn't entirely sure why it meant so much to him—it wasn't as if they hadn't held hands before-but perhaps it had something to do with the fact that they weren't talking about their relationship this time, or really anything of great importance and the contact was just…nice. "Even Wes agrees, and I swear I've actually heard Wes ask for _more _homework in some of our other classes," Blaine continued casually, but there was no hiding the spark in his eyes when he looked back up at Kurt, or the odd way his lips twisted in trying to still be bitter about his other class while simultaneously grinning.

The house lights dimmed and Blaine clenched his fingers around Kurt's hand in excitement, leaning over the arm rest between them slightly so that their shoulders were touching. It wasn't very long into the performance before Blaine's head found its way to Kurt's shoulder, tucking into the crook. He couldn't see Kurt's reaction, but he could only assume it was good as he felt Kurt's thumb rub circles against his hand.

Kurt was more than helpful throughout the musical, too. Blaine found him easily distracted by the songs, losing the story behind them. Every time this happened, he'd lean in and mumble, "Wait, what?" into Kurt's ear. Kurt never became frustrated and even seemed almost excited as he briefly explained what had just taken place.

Blaine could feel the anticipation growing, reaching near the climax of the story when the actors exited the stage and the lights flickered on. Kurt gave Blaine a nudge, who, admittedly, did not want to move from the perfect position he was in, nestled up against Kurt.

They waited a moment for a large portion of the crowd to make their way out. Kurt had managed to get really good (and probably really expensive...) seats near the front. Blaine didn't really want to deal with the hoard trying to cram their way out; he also enjoyed standing and waiting with his fingers laced between Kurt's.

Intermission was thirty minutes. Blaine was on a high, and when Kurt told him they should stretch their legs a bit and get a snack, he didn't really understand—he wasn't hungry, although maybe a little too energized, considering he could hardly stop fidgeting through half of the show because he was just so _excited_. Everything was new and fascinating. Besides, maybe Mr. Hummel was hungry, he reminded him, trying to think of more than just himself in his exuberance. So instead of questioning it, he just agreed and leaped up, taking Mr. Hummel's hand without a second thought. The instant they exited the theatre, his mouth was moving a mile a minute, about the characters, the actors, the story, but mostly he just wanted to talk about the music. The lyrics, the feeling and emotion put into everything, the way the play wouldn't be utterly lacking without the songs. They weren't just there to fill empty space or set a mood—they helped move the story along and Blaine _loved _that the play was so dependent on the music.

The outside of the theater was just as grand as the inside, though, despite the mass of people struggling to find their way to the bathroom and bar. Still, the way it was built was extremely visually pleasing and Blaine was caught up in admiring the high ceilings when he felt a tug on his hand. Confused hazel eyes found Kurt, and Blaine looked back at the line of the bar. "Weren't you hungry?" he asked uncertainly, pointing his thumb over his shoulder as they turned down a less crowded hallway.

"Yes," Kurt assured him impatiently, his fingers tightening around Blaine's hand and tugging harder.

Blaine glanced back doubtfully, certain that Mr. Hummel had seen the stands lining the floor, especially considering he seemed easily able to catch students in the very back row passing notes. "But the food is that way," the seventeen year old commented, making a weak attempt at digging his heels into the floor to slow Mr. Hummel down. "Unless you know a fancy restaurant downstairs or something—"

"Blaine, there is no downstairs."

"Well, then, I don't know where you think we're going—"

"I _don't want food_, Blaine."

"But...you said..." The confusion was evident in Blaine's voice, but all he got in response was an almost eager-sounding "_Hush_!" as Mr. Hummel pulled him down the slightly downward-sloped corridor until the floor flattened out between them and they came to a stop outside of...a janitor's closet? "Mr. Hu-I mean, Kurt-sorry-what are we doing here?"

Kurt was already testing the doorknob out before giving it a gentle nudge and let it slip open. Blaine was still somewhere between confusion and surprise that the door hadn't been locked; perhaps it was just because not many people came down this way? Or they expected better of people with enough class to sit through plays and musicals. "Isn't this against _some _kind of rule?" Blaine asked, still entirely uncertain of what exactly they were doing down here.

His train of thought ended there, however, for in the next instant Kurt's hands were on his upper arms, pushing him into the room and simultaneously pulling the door shut. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Blaine was sure he heard a lock click, but everything after that was kind of a blur.

A blur, because Mr. Hummel's lips were pressed against his, moving fast and fervent with a heat that hadn't been there the last time they made out or any time before-but then, really, when had they ever actually kissed like _this_? Just as soon as they were there, Kurt's lips were gone, trailing from the corner of his mouth, down to and across his jaw line, and then along his neck. A whine escaped slightly parted lips, his hands reaching to touch, to grab, to hold on to some part of Kurt. Kurt would have none of this, his hands flying up to press Blaine's wrists against the wall. So Blaine was pinned here, under his teacher, whose lips were moving over his neck...

_Oh, God_, was that Kurt's tongue sliding along his jugular? Blaine's hips bucked forward involuntarily, finding Kurt's thigh. _Oh_, that felt good against his half hard cock, and Kurt didn't seem to mind, biting down on his neck as Blaine moved his hips rhythmically against his teacher's—and boyfriend's—thigh.

"No touching." Kurt mumbled in his ear, his breath hot and delicate. Blaine could only nod in response and suddenly his hands were free of their restraints as Kurt moved to loosen Blaine's tie, unbuttoning the top of his white collared shirt. An unrestrained moan crawled up the back of Blaine's throat, slipping past his lips because—_wow_, who would have thought the collarbone was such a sensitive spot? And Kurt was working _magic _with his tongue along the bone and the noises escaping Blaine's lips should have been embarrassing, but he couldn't _think _enough for that—all he could do was _feel_. Blaine was absolutely reduced to whimpers and jelly legs, hands seeking support along the flat surface behind him.

"K-Kurt?"

"Mm?" Kurt mumbled, lips still working against the hollow of neck, right above his collarbone.  
>Oh, <em>God<em>, the things that reverberation against his skin did. Blaine realized Kurt was clearly distracted, but so was Blaine—both of them seemed to be thinking more about the fact that Kurt's hands were suddenly sliding along the length of Blaine's body, past his ribcage and finally settling on his hips.

"Is this a dream?" Blaine's voice came out ragged and gasping, but he was too interested in everything Kurt was doing—with his mouth, his tongue, his hands—to care that he sounded desperate and needy. Blaine heard a chuckle from under his chin, but received no further response. Only a hand palming at his cock.

Fuck.

Blaine could barely stand to think clearly. Most of his actions were pure instinct; the way his hips moved, grinding up and into Kurt's hand, or the way his hands searched for _something _to hold onto because there was no way in hell he could just stand there and take it. He learned strictly by trial and error. He desperately wanted a faster pace than this, his hips jerking forward, swift and hard, only to find Kurt's hand suddenly gone, perhaps forcing his hips back or grabbing for one of his wrists that had wandered just a _little _too close. Blaine groaned his discontent, letting his head fall back against the wall until Kurt's palm found his cock once again.

One thing was for sure: Kurt was in control here, and Blaine had to consciously stop his hips from moving any faster than Kurt wanted, cursing every time his hips jerked forward too quickly. It took a few tries to find the right pace, to find the self restraint to keep going, but when he did, it was almost torturous. In all honesty, Blaine had no idea what had gotten into his teacher, but he certainly wasn't going to question it now.

All too suddenly, Kurt's hand was gone and a desperate whine escaped Blaine's lips. He was only partially aware of the pressure against his hips, the fingers slipping through his belt loops and guiding his hips forward. Before Blaine had a chance to understand, Kurt's hips were flush over his, thrusting into his and pushing him further back against the wall. Gasps and broken moans ripped themselves from Blaine's throat as Kurt grinded his hips into him, and only Kurt's lips pressed firmly over his own could dull the noise he was making. Blaine couldn't stand to keep his hands off of Kurt any longer, and Kurt didn't protest when they settled on his shoulders, trying to pull the teacher closer and parting his lips obediently when Kurt made the silent request for entrance.

Blaine barely even realized how hard he was grinding against Kurt, his thrusts growing harsher and needier, faster and deeper. "_Mr. Hummel. Kurt. Kurt_," he whined into the older boy's ear, having to break the kiss to do so. The heat was rushing and his mouth was gaping open, and then...

Sweet, unfortunate release. The warmth and liquid spread in his pants. Clearly, Kurt noticed the way he suddenly stopped responding to the touches, the kisses, because suddenly he was gone and Blaine felt his absence. Kurt stood a step back now with an eyebrow raised pointedly at the senior. Blaine took notice in the way Kurt's cock was still hard pressed against his pants, and he could see Kurt taking notice in the way that his penis...wasn't. A smile spread across the teacher's face, one of his pale hands flying up to try to suppress a giggle. "Blaine, did you just...?"

Blaine could only look away in horror, the air and time taking its toll as the cum in his pants began to gel and get sticky. His eyes were wide, and some part of him wanted to cry in embarrassment and hide from Kurt.

"Blaine?"

"Yes!" he shouted, his voice trailing off into an ashamed cry, the only way he could get a response out. His hand moved down, trying to pull the fabric away from his skin, the way it stuck sending a disgusted chill down his spine.

Kurt was still smiling, this time somewhat sympathetically, and Blaine's cheeks were still burning with embarrassment. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up." A groan bubbled up in Blaine's chest and he pushed himself delicately away from the wall as Kurt stepped aside, cringing at the way his pants stuck and rubbed against his body. Despite his boyish, inexperienced mistake, Kurt's hand found his as they exited the janitorial closet in a manner that Blaine was sure was meant to be graceful, but he must have spoiled that by the way he moved and muttered constant phrases of disgust under his voice.

They found the bathroom fairly quickly with Kurt leading and he gathered a handful of paper towels and ran them under some water, shooing Blaine off into one of the empty stalls. Luckily it wasn't too busy and Blaine assumed it must be getting closer to the second act, sounding off disgruntled "_Ugh_"s and voicing a few whispers of "_Gross_," as he cleaned himself up. The liquid had been exposed to air long enough though, that it had congealed enough that there was nothing he could do about his clothes and the idea of just _dealing with it_ kind of made his skin crawl, but what other choice did he have?

Blaine exited the stall only after flushing all evidence of his mishap down the toilet and shuffled to the sink, still only sending awkward glances at Kurt who still appeared just a _little _amused. Blaine washed his hands thoroughly and fixed his shirt and tie before finally realizing he had no choice but to face Kurt and it was starting to feel an awful lot like the moment right before he confessed his feelings.

"Blaine, it's okay." Kurt's voice was soft and reassuring, almost _fond_. "It happens to everyone—especially kids your age."

"Yeah…" was all Blaine could think to say, mostly because it wasn't at all what was on his mind. Kurt deserved someone who could keep up with him, someone who wasn't going to jump the gun every time like Blaine had a feeling he was going to. He glanced up at Kurt again through dark eyelashes, biting the inside of his cheek subconsciously.

"Let's get back to our seats."

Before Blaine could answer, Kurt's hand was wrapped around his again, tugging him back through the bathroom and eventually back through the doors to the theater. Blaine would swear he caught Kurt laughing as he clambered awkwardly over people, his face absolutely burning at the idea of _anyone _besides Kurt realizing why he was taking such care to not touch anyone.

Once they sat down, Blaine released a defeated sigh, shifting uncomfortably until as little of the sticky fabric was touching him as possible. "_It's not funny_," he hissed at Kurt under his breath, both glaring and trying to hide his face at the same time.

"Shh, it's about to start," Kurt warned as if he _hadn't _started this conversation anyway (well, even though technically he hadn't_ said _anything).

Blaine wasn't expecting Kurt, after _that _whole incident, to be daring enough to plant his hand upon Blaine's knee, in what he was sure was meant to be a reassuring way, but really just made Blaine want to fidget again. Blaine's hand shot out to grip Kurt's, squeezing it in a silent request that he _please, stop_ and simply because he would rather hold Kurt's hand than let it just on his knee like that.

The problem with all of this was that not only was Blaine already uncomfortable and struggling to ignore his discomfort, but Kurt refused to allow him to forget it. Blaine very nearly released a very verbal, offended scoff when Kurt leaned over to whisper in his ear at one point, "Looks like the main character's got himself in a bit of a _sticky _situation," the smirk evident in his voice. A pleading groan sounded, quiet and broken, from Blaine, his fingers tightening around Kurt's while he tried to find a more comfortable position. It took a few minutes to realize that no matter what way he sat, he was going to be uncomfortable for the second half of this play, so he might as well get used to it.

It would have been easier if Kurt hadn't decided to whisper variations of this comment in his ear every time he thought up a new one. And considering how witty Kurt was—even when Blaine knew him only as Mr. Hummel—there were a _lot_ to sit through.

The hour passed slow. In comparison to how quickly the first half the play flew by, this part absolutely _dragged_, not because it was bad, but rather because Blaine was just so uncomfortable. And then _finally_ the stage lights dimmed. The actors all came out for the final bow. Blaine was pretty sure he was the first person in the entire theater to stand up, really trying his hardest to wait the appropriate amount of time before doing so and trying not to look so eager to get out of there. Still, he clutched Kurt's hand impatiently, tapping his fingers against the back of his hand until Kurt shifted the grip to hold his fingers still. "We're almost there," Kurt whispered, causing Blaine to shiver at the closeness of Kurt's lips to his ear.

It was a few minutes, but eventually they were exiting the theater and Blaine let out a disgusted groan as Kurt led him to the car. The ride was mostly silent. Blaine insisted upon lying his suit coat over the seat for the ride home, and sat with his arms crossed, staring out the window. He felt bad; Kurt was clearly trying to engage in conversation, asking if he liked the show and if there was anything else he might want to see next time, and all Blaine could answer with were awkward one or two word responses, occasionally shifting uncomfortably again.

By the time they reached Blaine's house, Kurt appeared to have given up on communication and Blaine had his fingers dug into his kneecaps to keep from absolutely clawing at his pants. The engine cut and Blaine reached for the door handle, already drawing in a breath to bid Kurt goodnight. He had just wrapped his fingers around the handle when the locks clicked and Blaine stopped, turning to look at Kurt with a slightly raised eyebrow, shaking his head and reaching for the lock.

It wouldn't budge.

"_Child locks_, Kurt, _really_?" Blaine whined, wheeling around to look at Kurt again and slumping back in his seat.

"Blaine, we need to talk."

Another whine and an awkward shift. "I don't want to talk…"

"You've hardly said a word since we left the theater. We need to."

"But it's awkward and I just want to go home and change. And maybe crawl in a hole and die."

"Blaine, it's _okay_," Kurt sighed, reaching over to take one of Blaine's hands again and Blaine _would _have resisted except for the fact that he really didn't have anywhere to go. Instead, he just let Kurt take his hand and sighed, trying to sink or blend into the upholstery. "I actually liked it, Blaine," Kurt assured him, giving his hand a squeeze and sending a rather heartwarming smile his way that probably would have destroyed him if he wasn't so mortified.

Still, confusion somehow managed to work its way into his embarrassment. "How could you _like _that?" Blaine exclaimed, utterly lost in Kurt's logic.

"Blaine, it's the idea that you're that attracted to me. That I can _do _that to you. _Please_ don't let this make things awkward. You're amazing, Blaine. And cute. And the way you lost it…it was pretty hot."

Kurt's hand was on his thigh.

Oh _God, _Kurt's _hand _was on his _thigh_.

Blaine squirmed under the touch, not at all because he didn't like it, but because he hated the idea of Kurt touching exactly what was making Blaine feel so disgusting.

"We'll get there, okay? Let's just keep it slow for now."

Blaine nodded, tearing his gaze away from Kurt's hand long enough to look into his eyes. He was suddenly a lot closer, leaned more towards the console separating him than Blaine remembered from moments ago. "Okay," Blaine agreed quietly, his gaze flicking almost magnetically between Kurt's eyes and his lips, leaning in for one of their usual goodbye—or, in this case, goodnight—kisses.

He met Kurt halfway over the console, briefly admiring how their lips fit so perfectly together. He wondered if he would _ever _get used to, ever get _over _it, and he wondered if it was normal for a pair of lips to mesh so well, almost like puzzle pieces made just for each other. It was lingering kiss, but a few seconds in Blaine was surprised to find Kurt working his lips again, similarly to earlier that very evening. His free hand was in Blaine's hair, working along the edge of his hair and toying lightly with the curls that had worked themselves free there and Blaine wondered if Kurt had seen him doing this very thing to himself on multiple occasions in class.

Nothing could have jolted Blaine out of these thoughts like Kurt's tongue running along his bottom lip. A surprised noise escaped his lips, providing the temporary part in his lips that Kurt needed to deepen their kiss. Blaine squirmed, whining because he knew he should be enjoying this, knew he should be just as eager for this as Kurt seemed (if not more so), but he wasn't.

They broke apart on mutual terms, Blaine glancing down ashamedly before meeting Kurt's questioning eyes. "I can't…I want to, but I can't. Not—Not now, not like…like this."

"Okay," was all Kurt said, not even looking all that disappointed, and yet Blaine still felt the need to explain.

"I just…I feel really disgusting and I can't. I'm sorry."

"Blaine, it's okay. There's no need to apologize. I understand."

Blaine looked up again, the corners of his lips finally twitching up in a grateful smile. "Thank you, Kurt."

"Of course." Kurt smiled, pushing a noncompliant curl behind Blaine's ear and stroking his cheek lightly, and Blaine felt it was odd that that should make him shiver more than the hand on his thigh a moment ago, tilting his head a little to lean more into Kurt's hand. Kurt leaned in once more, pressing a soft kiss to Blaine's lips before smiling. "Goodnight, Blaine," he said quietly.

"Goodnight, Kurt," Blaine mumbled, his own face lighting up with a smile that had been missing for the last hour and a half. "Text me when you get home?" he asked hopefully, grinning when Kurt nodded.

Blaine clambered out of the car, taking his suit coat with him, and walked up to his house, turning to wave Kurt off once he got the front door open. He watched as Kurt drove off, until his car rounded the corner, and headed inside, closing and locking the door to his house. So his first date hadn't gone _exactly _as he planned.

But it was still pretty damn good.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Kurt was hopelessly desperate for any time with Blaine. It was so hard to see him. Any amount of alone time had to be cut short. Whatever alone time they did have, Kurt was on guard. Kurt tried to do whatever he could to make small gestures at Blaine. He'd put an extra big simile face on his paper, in pink ink, if he did particularly well. He let his fingers graze over Blaine's when handing back papers. He'd call on Blaine when he knew the answer to let the boy shine. Sometimes, he had to remind himself to focus on the answer just to make sure that he didn't agree with it if Blaine was wrong. They called every night, too. Their phone calls had lasted up to five hours, never a dull moment. They always had something to say to each other; they wanted to know everything about the other. He'd even taken Blaine on a dinner date to One If by Land Two if By Sea. He brought Blaine partially because he knew the chances of running into someone were slim and partially because he enjoyed spoiling Blaine. It didn't hurt that the place was totally romantic and watching Blaine order with wide eyed excitement was certainly a perk.

Blaine was admittedly upset when he Googled an approximate value of a dinner night there, discovering the average was a little under $250 for the two of them. Kurt had no regrets, though. The night had ended with a near perfect kiss and Blaine's hand on his ass, which he let rest there for a while before pointedly moving it away. It's not that he wanted to, but if Blaine had his way they'd be "doing it" (which Blaine had so eloquently phrased it ) in the back seat of his car. Also, Kurt was beginning to love to spoil Blaine.

It was still lonely, though, because Kurt couldn't afford to spend hundreds of dollars every weekend just to have a quiet and alone dinner. Planning dates was difficult, and he'd even considered running away for the weekend on a distant trip. This plan felt stupid when he realized he could just invite Blaine over and they'd have every bit of privacy they'd been craving. It also felt stupid when he realized he could be charged with kidnapping...

Kurt had no intentions of going all the way with Blaine just yet, but he still made sure he had lube and condoms. He convinced himself it was "just in case".

He wasn't typically the type to become a nervous wreck, but just the thought of the entire night alone sent his brain into overdrive. Some part of him didn't even want to ask Blaine to come, and instead just tell him, because he knew the boy would do _anything_ to spend time with him, even cancel his plans with other friends. He couldn't do that, though. Blaine was still a boy, and he deserved every opportunity to say no. He didn't want to look back on these moments and feel as if he'd forced Blaine into anything he didn't want. He was so scared that somewhere deep inside, Blaine didn't want this, or that he'd regret being with Kurt, so Kurt was doing everything he could to make sure that didn't happen.

The childishness of the entire situation sent Kurt giddy. Kurt had always wanted to grow up and be an adult, but there was something about falling head over heels for someone as amazing as Blaine that sent him back into his teen years. So it was on Blaine's paper that he stuck a post it note in eloquent handwriting that said:

_Meet me after class~ xoxo. :)_

He waited a moment, giving Blaine time to read the note before looking back to see him stuffing the post-it in his jacket pocket. If he hadn't been only glancing, he probably would have noticed the furious blush on Blaine's face.

The rest of the class time passed by slowly. Every now and then, the both of them would coincidentally look up at each other at the same time, smile, and then look away. It was so hard not to get up and place a kiss on Blaine's forehead. Blaine was like a radiator, but instead of heat he emitted cute.

Kurt couldn't help but notice small things about Blaine: The way his knee hopped in excitement, speeding up in anticipation as the class drew near the end; the way he tapped his pencil against the desk; the way he stared at the clock. Once, when their eyes met and Kurt was sure no one else was looking, he even sent a wink Blaine's way. Sometimes, he wondered if dating Blaine was worth the risk, but it was times like this he knew it was.

When the bell rang, Kurt couldn't help but overhear Blaine's excuse to his friends. "Yeah, I'll be there in a few. No, Mr. Hummel gave me another A-. I know it's a good grade, Jeff, but I really feel this one deserves an A+. I worked extra hard on it." The gang of boys rolled their eyes and went ahead without him.

Their eyes met again, a smile creeping on Blaine's face that sent Kurt's heart practically out of his chest.

_No one boy should have this much control over my emotions,_ Kurt couldn't help but think, trying to will his heartbeat to slow down.

Kurt was less sneaky about his wording this time. He'd finally set Puck straight about how he didn't want to eat out every day with the teachers because his jeans were really expensive, and buying a new wardrobe to match his new size would devastate his budget.

"Blaine." Kurt pressed his lips together, trying to keep his calm. On the inside, he felt like a mess around Blaine. On the outside, though, to Blaine, he was sure he looked calm and cool and collected. He'd worked so hard over the years _to_ look like that. "I'm not really good with proposals or anything, but I was wondering—"

The way Blaine's eyes went wide in shock alerted Kurt to what Blaine thought he was asking. "No. No! Blaine, I'm not asking you to marry me. That would be—odd, to say the very least." Blaine's eyes went even wider. "…Not that it wouldn't eventually happen over time, naturally, but we've been dating for about a month. Well, a month this weekend, actually." Once again, his eyes were wide. "Um, so I was wondering if you'd like to come over…"

Wait, was Blaine even breathing?

"…And stay the night? Blaine? Are you okay?" Blaine nodded, taking a moment before responding.

"Our one month...anniversary? " Obviously Blaine hadn't been paying attention to dates. Kurt had, though. He had it marked all over his calender.

"Yes, Blaine. One month...this weekend..."

"Is there anything…special… you have planned?" His fingers were on the edge of the desk, clawing. Kurt's brows furrowed.

"Is it not enough to just spend a quiet evening with your boyfriend? We can watch movies and eat popcorn and tell each other stories." He couldn't help but be mildly offended that Blaine felt that they had to do anything to have a good time. It was starting to feel like he was only in it for the fancy dinners when…

"No! No no! Kurt, I want—I was just wondering." He stared in horror, the next sentence coming out in a spastic phrase with no pausing between the words. "I was wondering if I needed to bring condoms or lube or porn or something."

"Porn?"

"I don't know…"

"One, I don't have any plans for anything like that happening, but if it did, I'm prepared. Two, if you're implying that I have a difficult time "getting it up", you are sorely mistaken. Do you not remember the janitor closet incident, or must I remind you? I mean, I'm not _that_ old, Blaine." Blaine looked down, obviously embarrassed at any mention at the fact that he came in his pants. Quite frankly, Kurt didn't see any reason to be embarrassed by it, and he'd unashamedly masturbated at the thought numerous times since.

Kurt stood up, leaning over his desk and tugging at Blaine's tie to pull him closer. It was one of his favorite things to do, in all honestly. Blaine's hands pawed at the desk, trying to find a comfortable position as Kurt placed a kiss on his lips. Any amount of embarrassment seemed to disappear "So will you come?" There was some amount of desperation in his voice, his fingers still playing with the satin-y fabric of the tie.

"So, it'll be like a sleepover...?"

"Yes."

"Pillow fights and all?"

"If you want."

"Yes. Yes, I'll be there." Kurt was already grabbing for a sticky note and a pen, writing down his address before handing it to Blaine.

"I mean...I can pick you up if you want..."

"No, no. My parents would be suspicious. They'll be thinking I'm at Jeff's house." A smile crept along Blaine's lips, tucking the sticky note in his inside jacket pocket along with the other one. Blaine grabbed Kurt's shoulder, leaning in for another kiss. Blaine loved kisses more than he seemed to love air, but Kurt wasn't protesting. Kurt couldn't help but notice the spring in his step as he walked out, trying to fix his blazer a bit. He turned back before he walked out the door, giving Kurt a stern look. "Kurt?"

"Hm?"

"I want nothing. I mean- for our anniversary."

"What?"

"You have issues buying me extravagant things, like expensive dinners. Promise me you won't buy me anything."

"I have no idea _what_ you are talking about." Kurt was smirking, but the upturned lips fell when Blaine's look hardened. "Fine, fine. Nothing."

"I have your word?"

"You have my word."

-

Kurt had trouble focusing on anything. His lessons were probably some of the most routine, boring lessons he'd ever provided. Even Wes fell asleep. Kurt didn't really care, though, taking the opportunity to toss a piece of paper at his head. Wes woke up, startled and embarrassed before mumbling a poorly thought up excuse about how he stayed up late studying.

Even Puck seemed to notice something was wrong.

-

_"What's up, Kurt-o." Kurt looked up from the essay he was grading to be greeted with an overly friendly smile from Puck. Normally, he would have returned the gesture, but he just wasn't in the mood._

_"Why the sudden nick name, Puck-o?" It wasn't meant to be as snarky as it came out, but he couldn't take the tone back now. Puck seemed only mildly offended; he rarely paid any attention to Kurt's attitude. It was a result of Kurt's brother, Finn, and Puck being friends. Finn gave him advice with how to deal with Kurt, much against Kurt's will._

_"Because I was hoping you'd retort with that nickname. Doesn't Puck-o sound awesome?" Kurt couldn't help but roll his eyes. This was practically begging for a quippy remark._

_"No, it sounds like a cheap cereal brand." Puck ground his teeth together, finally seeming to have enough of Kurt's attitude. Really, not many people could handle one of Kurt's bad moods for long._

_"What the hell is your problem? No Diet Coke yet?" Puck may have looked angry, but more so, he looked hurt. Kurt rarely took his aggression out on Puck; he may have been annoying, but he was relatively harmless. Sighing, Kurt felt the need to apologize._

_"Yeah, sorry... lost in thought."_

-

Kurt even began cleaning more. He'd always been a clean person, but now it was getting downright obsessive. The last thing he needed was for Blaine to think he was a pig. So every corner was dusted, every counter top was spotless, he'd even taken the time to wax the kitchen floor. He'd stayed up late doing so, and the bags under his eyes were beginning to show this. Even Blaine seemed to take notice.

-

_"Kurt?" Kurt smiled, loving the way his name sounded when Blaine said it. He couldn't neglect to hear the worry masked in there, though._

_"Hm?" When his eyes shifted up, he could practically feel the weight of the bags under his eyes._

_"Are you okay? I don't mean to be insulting, but you look like you're about to come down with something..." Normally, when someone said something negative about Kurt's appearance, he would have had a bit of a fit. This time, though, he couldn't. Blaine just looked so worried._

_"No, I'm fine. Just a late night." Kurt smiled, heart leaping when Blaine reached out and cupped his face. It was a move Blaine had most likely learned from him, and now he understood why the boy leaned into it like he did. Kurt did the same, closing his eyes under the boy's touch._

_The way he felt, soothed under his touch, Kurt practically wanted to fall asleep like this..._

_He could see himself falling asleep next to Blaine every night._

-

Kurt tried to cool down on the cleaning, not staying up as late, but still relatively late. He hated the idea that Blaine would worry about him.

When Friday had made its most needed appearance, Kurt waited until the teachers had left. Whomever was left in the building weren't teachers Kurt associated with, and that's when Blaine came in.

Kurt locked the door behind him, whisking the teenager to his desk and lifting him onto the wooden structure. Blaine was getting to the point where he didn't even question what was happening, his hands frantic and flying over Kurt's body. They finally settled on his waist as Kurt leaned forward, pressing his lips against Blaine's.

Their lips didn't stay chaste for long, parting and letting tongues explore. It was pure bliss, Kurt's eyes half lidded to get a blurry picture of his beautiful and eager boyfriend. His hands explored, wanting so badly to find their way up Blaine's shirt but resisting. His mind trailed off, wondering what Blaine's chest looked like. Had he gotten a patch of hair? Did he have the perfect happy trail? Were muscles coming in?

It wasn't even his hard on that stopped him; it was the way Blaine wrapped his legs around Kurt. His brain was foggy with lust, but he wasn't going to take the boy's virginity here. Not on a desk in a frantic heap, hoping not to get caught. It took a second to nudge the boy back.

They'd discussed the matter before, and it was so hard to tell Blaine no. To put it most politely, he'd never been into begging until he heard just the way Blaine did it.

"Kurt, I'm not saying I didn't like this and everything, but why...?"

"I've just... the glances all week, the notes I'm so scared someone's going to see... I just wanted to break some of the tension."

"Sexual tension?" There was a devious tone to Blaine's voice. He seemed so satisfied in that notion.

"Yes, Blaine, sexual _tension_." He leaned down to press a kiss against Blaine's forehead.

"We could do it. You know, _do it_, right here." Kurt rolled his eyes, dick practically going soft at just the way Blaine phrased it. He unwrapped the boys legs from him, taking no shame in how his eyes dragged over Blaine's hard cock. He shifted, trying to avoid thoughts of what it would look like, how it would _feel in his hand_.

"You need to get home." Kurt smiled, shaking his head as he grabbed his messenger bag and started for the door. "Come on."

Their drive home was mostly silent, but never tense. They held hands, only letting go when Kurt had to make a turn. When they pulled up to Blaine's house, he didn't immediately speak.

"Kurt, I know this is going to sound corny and stupid, but you make me _really happy_. Like, _really_. I don't- I'm so glad it's you who's my boyfriend." He turned, placing a kiss on Kurt's lips before hurrying out of the car. Kurt was left with a smile and his fingers pushing against his lips.

-

"Nervous wreck" would have been an understatement of what Kurt was the day Blaine was supposed to stay over. He'd practically bought out the snack food isle. What food did Blaine even like? Or a better question: What didn't he like? He was a teen and could plow through most foods. So he'd bought chips, corn nuts, popcorn, he even bought pork rinds. (although, he severely hoped Blaine didn't eat them. He realized how gross they were after he bought them and vowed not to kiss the boy if he ate them.)

The house was practically immaculate, the only "mess" being the pile of snack foods on the kitchen counter. Kurt _knew_ Blaine lived in a rather nice, large house. Kurt, on the other hand, lived in a small apartment over a convenience store in Little Italy. He'd done his fair share of renovating, but it was still a two room apartment and with a closet. The kitchen and the living room were connected, and his bed was in the living room off to the side. His bathroom didn't have a bath, only a stand in shower. (Though, it was admittedly roomy and had had quite a few different water pressures, which was nice.) His washer and drier were also crammed in the bathroom.

He tried to counter how cramped it was with minimal furniture and a lot of white. The walls were white, a lot of the furniture was white, and there was plenty of black accenting. He also had quite a few plants, of which he'd lovingly given names. This made it even worse when they inevitably died.

He was looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, trying to flatten out his already-pressed shirt. Kurt had never worn anything casual around Blaine, but now he was wearing a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and his favorite Diet Coke shirt. It was all a little dorky, and certainly not as fashionista as he usually was, but this was a sleepover.

This was Blaine.

There was a knock from the front door, and Kurt was hurrying to the door, sliding against the fake wood floor in his socks.

Blaine was standing there, a duffel bag strung over his shoulder. He looked excited and nervous, face lighting up as he looked at Kurt. Kurt couldn't help but fidget under Blaine's gaze; he couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lingered too much on his skinny jeans.

"Um, it's not much, but yeah. Come on in." The boy shuffled in upon the greeting, dropping his bag in the living room.

"So, you didn't tell me you lived in Little Italy."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Did you have trouble finding it or anything? I know a lot of the residents don't speak English."

"Um, no. Kurt, you didn't...?"

"Hm?"

"I speak Italian." He shuffled around, as if embarrassed about this skill. "I mean, my mom's whole side of the family is Italian. The dark, curly hair and eyes didn't give that away?" Kurt looked at Blaine. Well, the boy obviously looked Italian now that he mentioned it, but he could have been Greek or Hungarian or any other variation of Eastern European, really.

"Oh." That was all Kurt could manage to get out.

"Yeah. The lady downstairs was really nice. She said I was adorable. I think she wanted to set me up with her daughter. She offered to make me spaghetti, but I told her I was coming to see you." Kurt smiled. In reality, he'd only accepted this apartment because he knew someone at the time and they offered it cheap. Since then, the guy had moved away and he was stuck in a place where the majority of the population spoke Italian.

The two of them shuffled and stood there for a moment. "Want to watch a movie? You can pick it out while I make popcorn." Blaine nodded and began going through Kurt's DVD collection while Kurt managed the microwave.

"You don't have any Disney?"

"...Disney? Blaine, you offer to bring porn to my house and your first thought is to watch Disney?" Blaine blushed, looking down.

"I felt like I'd be a sap if I suggested The Notebook." Kurt smiled, shaking his head.

"Isn't The Notebook _the_ date movie?" Blaine didn't hesitate putting it in after that, settling on the couch and waiting for Kurt.

Once Kurt joined Blaine with popcorn and drinks, it didn't take long before they found themselves scooting closer and closer. Both of their feet were tucked up on the couch. Kurt finally moved an arm over Blaine's shoulder, Blaine leaned his head in. Kurt chewed on his lip as he felt Blaine's traveling hand slide lower on his back, hesitating and finally making it's way to his ass. Kurt didn't move it this time; he didn't have to.

And that's how they stayed for the most of the movie, the only thing changing being Blaine's hand squeezing. It was driving Kurt a little crazy, especially the way Blaine looked so satisfied doing it. When his hand gave a firm squeeze, Kurt couldn't help but jump. Some part of letting Blaine get even that far felt wrong, but he realized that most couples after a month had gone much further than they had, so he let Blaine continue. (He didn't really mind either, though. It felt all too long since he had gotten any sort of attention like this, especially from someone he liked so much.)

Kurt couldn't help but cry a bit at the end of The Notebook. He was a bit of a sap for romance. If he had his way, he would have prevented any amount of tears, not wanting Blaine to see him like this. Blaine looked similarly upset, though.

It was then that seemed like the perfect time to do it. He knew he'd promised Blaine he wouldn't get any gifts, but really, who had he been kidding? Silently, he stepped up from the couch and began digging in a drawer, leaving Blaine sitting and looking mildly confused.

"So I know I promised I wouldn't buy you anything..."

"Kurt, please tell me you didn't. You _promised_." There was a hint of desperation in Blaine's voice.

"But I technically didn't _buy_ anything. I promised you I wouldn't buy you anything. I already had this and made it."

"I guess I'll have to be more specific about the word choice I use around you."

"Yes, Blaine, I've been telling you that on your essays for weeks." Blaine shot a bit of a dirty look at him, and he chose to ignore it as he stepped closer. Despite Blaine's frustration, he still seemed intrigued by the gift. Blaine wasn't very good at hiding his excitement, especially not when it came to gifts.

"Well, what is it, then?" Kurt sprung forth, jumping to sit next to him on the couch. He took Blaine's hand and placed a necklace in it.

"So, I made this. My dad tried to sign me up for guitar lessons when I was younger, and I was never really good, so I quit. I remember you saying you could play guitar, though, so I made a necklace out of my very first guitar pick." Blaine hesitated for a moment, and then turned his back to Kurt.

"Could you help me put it on?" Blaine had the necklace around his neck, handing the two ends to Kurt. He took them, carefully hooking the two ends together. Blaine jumped up and ran over to the bathroom, Kurt following behind him at a slower pace. He was looking at the mirror when Kurt got there, poking at the turquoise blue guitar pick on the necklace and admiring it.

"Do you like it?"

"Kurt, it's perfect, but you really didn't have to..." Kurt put a hand up, telling him to stop talking.

"As corny as it sounds, as long as you like it, I'm happy."

-

The night had been going mostly uneventful after that. They'd watched more movies, changing positions quite a bit. Kurt's favorite was when Blaine stretched out and laid his head in Kurt's lap. He played with Blaine's one stubborn curl that kept popping out of its gel. If he had his way, Blaine wouldn't gel those perfect curls to begin with, but he wasn't going to tell the boy what to do and how to look.

Unless he started wearing Crocs. Kurt had limits.

After they finished Transformers (Blaine really liked explosions), Blaine sat up and grabbed his duffel bag. "I'm going to go change into my pajamas."

Kurt nodded, some amount of nerves swelling in his stomach. He hadn't worn pajamas since he moved out, not having to worry about his parents seeing him. While Blaine changed, Kurt settled on a pair of old, gray college sweat pants. He left the Diet Coke shirt on, trying to match Blaine's sleepover manners.

He flopped back on his bed, still able to see his TV from it, while he waited for Blaine. When he came out, Kurt couldn't help but smile. Blaine's pajamas had little Superman logos on the pants and the shirt was plain blue with a giant, matching superman logo. The pants were a little too long. He looked positively adorable. Kurt's heart leaped when he realized Blaine was still wearing the guitar pick.

"Do you want me to sleep on the sofa?" Blaine was rubbing his eyes, getting sleepy.

"Do you want to sleep on the sofa?" Blaine took it as an invitation to join Kurt in bed, and Kurt soon found himself holding Blaine.

_They were spooning_.

Kurt's heart and emotions were doing a million things at once as he nuzzled his face into Blaine's back. Blaine pulled the covers over the two of them.

"If I tell you something, do you promise not to run away?" Kurt closed his eyes as he spoke, inhaling Blaine's scent. Kurt was mostly sure Blaine used Axe body wash...

"Why would I run?" Blaine's voice was an octave higher in fear.

"Because, Blaine..." Kurt let go of the boy, propping himself up on his elbow as Blaine turned on his back to look up at him. "I've been thinking about it for a while now, and I can't imagine life without you, now. I mean, I remember what it was like, but it all feels so distant. I find myself wanting to wake up next to you every morning. I just- Blaine, please don't feel pressure to say it back, but I've fallen hard for you. I love you."

"I love you, too, Kurt." There was no hesitation. No beat missed. Blaine said it, just like that. Kurt leaned forward and kissed Blaine, soft and slow. "Kurt?"

"Hm?"

"How am I suppose to go back to sleeping every other night without you?" Kurt smiled back weakly. He wasn't sure of that answer, because he didn't know how he would sleep without Blaine by his side anymore either.

-

Kurt, unsurprisingly, woke up before Blaine. He crept out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. It may have been unromantic not to sit and watch Blaine while he slept, but to Kurt, it just felt like something out of a creepy Twilight novel. Even so, he did take a good look at the sleeping boy and the way his eyelashes fell perfectly over his cheeks. Blaine's hair was almost comical, too, the way the gel had set his curls into a frenzy from rolling around in it.

Kurt eyed all the uneaten snack foods, letting out a nervous laugh at how silly it felt to freak out about it.

Kurt began to make omelets. It was easy and didn't require an excessive amount of ingredients. He whipped the eggs, set them in a pan and began scavenging for ingredients.

Cheese, tomatos, green peppers, and onions were sprinkled inside the omelet and he was letting the eggs cook just a bit more when he felt arms wrap around his midsection, a face pressed against his shoulder blade.

"Smells good." Blaine said, in a tone that could only be described as sleepy and sexy. Kurt smiled, folding the omelet's in and plating them all while Blaine stood nuzzled into him.

"Could you get the orange juice in the fridge? It's in the door." Blaine let go as Kurt grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, setting them down. Blaine poured, Kurt set the table. When Blaine was about to join him, Kurt tugged him close and placed a kiss on the boy's lips. Screw bad breath, he'd just told Blaine he loved him. He'd just spent the night with Blaine. Blaine was smiling.

"What was that for?"

"So all my kisses have to have an ulterior motive now?" Kurt gave Blaine a little pat on his butt. "Sit down and eat before the eggs get cold."

Much like Kurt expected, Blaine ate the eggs with no complaints. When they finished, they just sat there, hands stretched over the table, palms holding onto each other.

-

Eventually, all good things come to an end. The day progressed, and Blaine slowly came to the realization he had to get home soon. It started with brushing his teeth, then getting dressed, and finally packing up the small amount of stuff he'd brought over. Kurt resisted any pouts; he had to be the mature one in this relationship. It was something he'd never experienced before. Kurt was use to being able to get whatever he wanted, especially in previous relationships. He could just bat his eyelashes and he'd have the other boy begging to complete Kurt's every whim.

He couldn't do that now, though. With Blaine, he could get in trouble. He could lose his job, his reputation, but most of all, he could lose Blaine. Blaine was still young and fragile and growing. It scared Kurt.

Blaine was standing in the door way, on his toes, begging for just _one more_ kiss. This was the fifth one that he'd promised was the last one, though.

"_Last_ one," he said, leaning in again to meet the puckered lips. Blaine was about to beg again, but Kurt stopped him before he had the opportunity. "Your parents are going to get mad." Kurt gave him another pat on the ass to shoo him out.

"It's really sexy when you do that, you know?" Blaine said in a growly voice, and God, where did he learn that? Kurt gave another pat, Blaine grinning as he skipped off. When Kurt closed the door, he slid down until he was in a sitting position. His heart was beating fast, his lips pulled into an uncontrollable smile. He was so in love it hurt.

-

Soon after Blaine left, he sent a text asking Blaine to let him know when he got home. He wanted to make sure that he was safe and sound. Blaine complied, but said he was unable to text anymore because he had a little bit of homework to do. Kurt worked on papers in the mean time, trying to keep his mind off of how love struck he was. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyeing some of the worst papers he may have ever seen in his life behind his thick rimmed glasses.

After a while, he gave up on grading and watched TV. He was about an hour into a movie on Lifetime when he finally got a text from Blaine.

_Hey, I'm done with homework._

_Good. I had a really great time. Everything seemed so relaxed. No pressure._

_Yeah. It was magical. :D 3_

The texting stopped until Blaine sent another text.

_Have you ever done it over the phone?_

_No. I'm so old, how do you do it over the phone?_

_Are you being sarcastic?_

_Yes._

_Do you want to?_

Kurt swallowed, trying not to think of Blaine being a mess on top of a duvet set with his hand on his cock.

_You're crazy, Blaine. Go to bed._

_Kurt, it could be hot._

_I need time to think about it. How about when you can stop calling sex "doing it", we can try?_

_You're horrible._

_I know._

_I have my hand on my cock._

_Then how are you texting?_

It took a long time for Kurt to receive another text. Blaine obviously had a hard time trying to think about an answer. That, or he was really masturbating.

_Why do you have to be so logical?_

_Nope._

_Goodnight, Blaine._

Kurt set his alarm clock, crawling under the covers. He slept on the side Blaine had slept on, nuzzling his nose into the fabric. It still smelled like Blaine. He was about to drift off when he got another text.

_Goodnight Kurt. I love you. :)_

_I love you too, Blaine. 3_


	5. Chapter 5

It was quiet on Wednesday evening in the Anderson household. The family was sitting at the dining room table for dinner, Blaine's parents throwing glances at each other and occasionally at him and he knew they were silently discussing _something_ but pretended not to notice. His mind had long since wandered to Kurt—what was he doing now, where was he, who was he with, what he might be thinking about. Simultaneously, he was thinking about a paper he was supposed to write for his English class that was due next week and what he was supposed to tell Jeff about Friday. Jeff asked if he could hang out yesterday, but Blaine had already made plans with Kurt for a date Friday night. Things were starting to get difficult—his friends had started to take notice of how often he disappeared, of how little time he spent with them after school, and as much as Blaine hated the idea of taking any potential time away from Kurt, he did love his friends and he did need to find a way to spend time with them so they didn't suspicious. He wanted to hang out with them more, of course, but every time he did, all he could think about was _Kurt._ What he _could_be doing with Kurt right now. And the thought was so tantalizing that it usually left him in desperate need of getting away from the general public.

If he could just keep them at bay for the rest of the week, he would be rewarded with a lovely date to another musical with Kurt. The very idea had him giddy with excitement and itching to finish dinner so that he could go back to his room and call Kurt.

"So, Blaine."

His mother's voice cut through his thoughts and Blaine finally looked up, swallowing his food and taking a drink of his water before answering. "Yes?"

"How is school going?" Oh. So they were playing _this _game, where they beat around the bush for a question or two and _then _dove into whatever was really on his parents' minds.

"It's okay," Blaine shrugged. "I mean, I've had better days."

"Oh, well that's good." His mother smiled at him over the top of her water glass and took a pitifully small sip.

Blaine blinked, looking up from his forkful of green beans with his eyebrows knit together slightly. This was nothing new, really—his parents asking how his day went, or how he was feeling, but never _really _listening. Typically speaking, they only asked when they wanted to talk about something _more_.

"So, Blaine. Your father and I were talking the other day—"

That meant trouble. Blaine _dreaded _when discussions started out that way. It always meant something Blaine wouldn't agree with or wouldn't want to agree to, and it usually meant something his father had suggested his mother bring up with him because he didn't want to get into it. "About what?"

"Well, we know that what with you going to an all boys school that meeting people is fairly difficult."

Blaine looked up, his fork frozen halfway between his plate and his mouth as he glanced from his mom to his dad and back again. "Um…no. I'm perfectly capable of meeting people on my own." He knew his mom wasn't just talking about meeting _people_ though—she was talking about meeting _girls_, about meeting someone who could be a potential significant other, a lover, a _girlfriend_.

"Well, of course you are, honey." She reached across the table to pat the top of his free hand, her voice too sweet, as if she was talking to her nine her old instead of her almost-eighteen year old son. "But you've been spending an awful lot of time with Jeff lately—"

"And Nick," Blaine reminded, setting his fork on his plate and pulling his hand away. "And Wes, David, Thad, and sometimes their girlfriends. I thought I told you about them? Sarah, Cori, and Audrey?"

"Right, of course you have. But you've never shown any real…interest in hanging out with any of the girls by themselves, the way you do with Jeff."

Blaine stared at her long and hard, blinking once and rubbing at his forehead over his left eye. "Right…because they're _taken_, mom." He shook his head, sitting up straighter and trying to speak as honestly as he could, even if this entire conversation was a lie anyway. "I don't know them well enough to hang out. Jeff is one of my best friends. So, yeah, I'm going to hang out with him more than a girl I barely know—"

"Honey, we're not talking about hanging out with your friends. We're talking about dating."

"Mom, they're _taken_—"

"We were thinking the Berry girl, Blaine," his father said from over the top of the newspaper he was reading, giving Blaine a hard, loaded stare.

"_Rachel_?" Blaine asked, clearly displeased by the very idea. "Rachel—I haven't talked to Rachel Berry since middle school. We don't—we never even really got along that well."

His dad heaved a sigh and folded the paper up, setting it down on the table and looking at Blaine pointedly. "Blaine, your mom and I called the Berrys up and we set up a date for you and Rachel."

"…What?" Blaine stared across the table at his dad, his eyes wide and filled to the brim with disbelief. He looked over at his mom and then back, shaking his head. "No. I don't want to go on a date with Rachel."

"Well, you are. It's already decided, Blaine. You and Rachel are going out to dinner on Friday—"

"_Friday_?" Blaine exclaimed, hazel eyes growing fierce and narrowing ferociously. "You can't just _make plans _like that for me—I had my own plans—I don't _want _to go on a date with Rachel!"

"Well, too bad, Blaine. You can't have everything you want and sometimes you have to make sacrifices. It's too late to cancel—Rachel's parents already told her—"

"_No_," Blaine said stubbornly. "_Rachel's _dadshad the decency to ask her before making plans for her Friday night, didn't they?" Silence. "_They _considered the fact that she _may _not want to go out with me or that just _maybe _she had plans already. _You didn't_, and now I have to cancel on someone far more important than a _girl_I knew almost five years ago." Blaine kicked his chair out and stood, throwing his napkin down on his plate, his appetite gone. No matter that it would doubtlessly return within a few hours' time—he'd just scour the house for snacks later. "I'm done. I'll be in my room."

For the rest of the night, Blaine did the only thing that ever really made him feel even the slightest bit better: He turned his music up loud and sang, just to get everything out.

He didn't hear his phone go off that night—several times—signaling texts varying at fifteen to forty-five minute intervals.

The next morning, Blaine was too tired—tired and irritable, actually—to function properly. After showering, getting dressed and doing an overall poor job with on his hair gel (there was _one _obnoxious curl that kept slipping out of its confines and falling over his forehead, and by the fourth time he brushed it back, he knew today was going to be a long day), he had trouble finding his shoes which he'd kicked off in a completely different spot yesterday than he usually did. For almost ten minutes, he walked around with one shoe on as he looked for his tie, and it took him almost that full ten minutes to figure out why his foot hurt so bad, and only then realized that he'd shoved his left foot into his right shoe. At that point, the idea of lying in bed all day was tempting—at least until he realized that staying here meant being around his parents all day and going to school meant that, even while being forced to pay attention, he'd at least be somewhere where his feelings were actually considered and he could make his own decisions (for the most part).

It wasn't until he was on the bus that he realized he'd forgotten his phone on his bedside table at home. Blaine spent the whole ride slumped in his seat and staring out the window in what felt like terrible depression. He just wanted to see Kurt and for Kurt to hug him and hold him. Blaine knew he was being needy right now, but he couldn't bring himself to care when it was a very real possibility that he wouldn't be able to really _see _Kurt until next weekend.

The day just seemed to be spiraling horrifically out of control. Blaine was sitting in his music theory class, not so much listening to Mr. Hummel as he was trying to telepathically demand Kurt to look at him, just once, because the whole class period had passed by so far without a direct glance, and eventually Blaine gave up, settling his head down against his desk in misery. Jeff looked across at him several times and when they finally caught each other's eye, he mouthed the words "Are you okay?" to which Blaine lightly shook his head, completely aware that he couldn't tell Jeff a word about this. Blaine would have to lie—again—and tell Jeff that he just wasn't feeling well.

It was fifteen minutes before class ended when _finally_, interaction was made.

"Mr. Anderson, if you wouldn't mind staying after class? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Blaine's head shot up to look at Kurt, but he wasn't so much _Kurt _in this moment as he was just Mr. Hummel, sitting behind his desk, bent over a paper he was grading, and thus didn't catch the hopeful glint in Blaine's eyes or the beginnings of a smile on his lips. All of it died when Mr. Hummel didn't look up at him, though and Blaine settled back, sighing. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

Fifteen minutes had never passed by so slowly. Blaine glanced up the clock what felt like every three minutes. Eventually, the bell rang and everyone packed up. Jeff gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze and Blaine attempted a bleary sort of smile that faltered as soon as he was gone. Everyone filed out and the room fell uncomfortably quiet as Blaine stared at his desk, eventually venturing to look up. Kurt was rubbing at his forehead, his eyes closed and Blaine frowned, concern filling him up and pushing his own problems further back as he stood from his desk. "Kurt?" he asked quietly.

"Get the door, Mr. Anderson, please."

Blaine blinked, uncertain of if Kurt was mad at him or calling him by his last name in case anyone was outside. It would be best not to jump to conclusions though—he had enough eating him up inside at the moment to really worry about what felt like too much of a possibility. Blaine closed the door before turning back to Kurt. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know, Blaine. Did I do something to upset you?" He finally looked up and his eyes were an odd mixture of uncertainty, sadness, and frustration.

"What?" Blaine asked, confusion flooding back through his body. "No. No, of course not. Why would you think that?" he asked hurriedly, approaching Kurt's desk warily and planting his hands there, twisting them together uncomfortably. "Did I?"

"Well, I texted you last night. About six times. You never answered. I called you this morning—you didn't pick up. I mean, you _always _pick up and you _always _text me back." Something flashed in Kurt's eyes, almost like shame, and Blaine immediately understood; he felt silly, childish for getting worked up over a few missed texts, but couldn't help feeling like he'd done something wrong, or as if Blaine were angry with him. Blaine felt the same way when Kurt didn't get back to him right away or didn't pick up his phone for whatever reason.

Blaine shook his head, edging along the desk at a steady pace. "I'm sorry, Kurt," he started, his heart heavy, for upsetting Kurt, and for probably doing so again with the bad news he was about to reveal. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I just…I was upset last night and I didn't hear my phone go off, and I forgot my phone this morning. I wasn't ignoring you."

Kurt sighed with something that sounded like relief to Blaine, blue green eyes searching as Blaine drew to a stop at the corner of the desk. "You could have let me know," Kurt said, his voice teetering on the edge of requesting that Blaine do so next time. "I guess it was silly of me, but I was worried."

"I know. I'm sorry," Blaine said again, voice still glum. "I just…I guess I'm not used to having someone to talk to, and I'm sorry that I scared you."

A short moment of silence passed before Kurt sighed and nodded, his eyes softening as the worry left them, replaced by concern now. "Why were you so upset?"

And Blaine could feel everything shift again. However angry he'd been at his parents last night, it seemed that all of it had turned to sorrow now; there was a lump in his throat and his eyes were stinging, his vision slightly blurred. He tried to hold it back and he felt stupid for coming even this close to tears. His breathing picked up and it was so strange and upsetting in comparison to how his breathing usually picked up around Kurt and he didn't like it. "I can't make our date," he finally stated, his voice cracking slightly as he looked down at the desk, picking at the edge of it between short fingernails.

Another stretch of silence and Blaine ventured to look up at Kurt again, and he realized Kurt was patiently waiting for him to elaborate. Blaine took a deep breath and tried to relax his shoulders. "My parents set me up on a date with a girl. I don't like her—at all—and they didn't even ask and I had plans—which of course you know; they were with you. And I _really _wanted to go that to show and those tickets can't be cheap and I don't want you to waste your money and—"

A firm hand on Blaine's shoulder silenced him and it never even registered in his brain that Kurt had stood up from behind his desk or that he had walked around it and closed all but a foot of distance between them. "Blaine, calm down. Take a deep breath. It's just one night. We can reschedule."

Blaine looked up as he exhaled, and while Kurt _sounded _as if this was okay, he looked disappointed—not with Blaine, but with the situation. Blaine hated feeling like he'd let Kurt down, even though it really wasn't his fault at all.

"But I wanted to go _this _weekend." Blaine collapsed against Kurt, wrapping his arms around him only so tight because he knew he'd never let go otherwise and they both still had more classes. "I don't want to reschedule. I don't want to go on a date with a girl. And I don't want your tickets to go to waste." His voice was thick and as childish as the words he spoke, slightly muffled when he turned his face to nuzzle against Kurt's chest.

"Well, Blaine," Kurt spoke, his voice quiet and comforting and Blaine felt it as Kurt rested his chin atop his head. "As much as I hate to say it, sometimes we have to do things we don't want to in life. We have next weekend. And all the weekends after that," Kurt assured him softly.

Blaine took a shuddering breath, trying to remain calm as he breathed in the scent of Kurt. "What are you going to do?" he asked after a moment, his grip tightening on the fabric of Kurt's shirt before he pulled away slightly, just enough to look up into those blue-green eyes with concern etched into his young features. "You're still going to go, right? I don't want your night to be completely ruined just because mine is. And you can't go alone—you have to know someone who would want to go."

Kurt seemed to consider his question seriously for a moment, humming uncertainly. "Well, I think Mr. St. James would appreciate the other ticket most."

Blaine pulled further away from Kurt, his face scrunched up in an odd mixture of horror and despair. "The _theatre teacher_?" he asked, insecurities flaring up like wildfire. "But…isn't he _bi_?"

Kurt stepped back, confusion drawing his eyebrows together slightly. "Well, I don't see what that has to do with anything, but…yes, I believe so."

Blaine shifted his weight to one foot, letting out a disgruntled huff as his face contorted into possibly the most pathetic pout. Kurt raised his eyebrows slightly, cocking his head to the side as he looked at the boy. "Why, Blaine? What do you think is going to happen?"

Blaine huffed again, his stance turning slightly defensive as he very nearly threw his arms in the air. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe that he'll think it's a _date _because you don't have a boyfriend as far as anyone knows—and they can't know—and he—you are a catch and he knows it and I don't want you to date anyone else or have anyone else mistake it for a date just because I can't be there."

Silence finally fell and the boy had ranted himself out when Kurt finally spoke, his voice soothing. "Blaine," he cooed. "I will be sure to let him know that it's not a date. I can still tell him the half-truth—my date canceled and I have an extra ticket. I'm sure he'll understand."

Blaine sighed. "I don't like it…but I really don't want those tickets to go to waste either."

"And Mr. Puckerman would not appreciate musical theatre the way Mr. St. James would," Kurt reminded with a small smile, probably at the very idea of Mr. Puckerman attending a theatre production. Blaine couldn't blame him—Mr. Puckerman wasn't the most civilized of people, even in the middle of class on occasion (Blaine had had a class with him last year).

"I know," Blaine sighed.

"Hey," Kurt cooed comfortingly, stepping closer again and reaching out to fix Blaine's lapel, letting his fingers brush down the length of it and linger against Blaine's chest. "We can always make up for lost time next weekend."

Blaine groaned in a way he hoped didn't sound too pathetically like a whine because, really, all he felt like doing today was whining. "But that's so far away."

Kurt's fingers traveled further up his chest, causing a shiver to run down Blaine's spine. "Well," he all but purred, "we also have the car before your parents get home." His fingers wrapped around Blaine's tie, tugging him closer with a playful smile on his face.

Blaine's eyes darkened, almost as if on cue, and he threw a glance at the door before looking back at Kurt, smirking as he leaned in.

"Blaine, calm down," Kurt sighed, but there was the ghost of a smile on his lips. "I'm just fixing your tie. You were clearly distracted this morning."

Blaine frowned and glanced down as Kurt's hands untied his tie, letting his shoulders fall forward in a slouch. "Tease," he muttered quietly, unable to help the smile on his lips as Kurt fixed the tie around his neck and smoothed out his lapels again.

"You should go get lunch," Kurt told him softly.

Blaine nodded. "Okay," he agreed simply, turning to walk back across the room to pick up his bag. Blaine returned to the desk, standing behind it now as he stared at Kurt, leaning forward just enough that it was clear what he wanted. "I'll see you after school?"

"Of course," Kurt said, offering a smile that Blaine eagerly returned. And then his teacher sighed. "You're not going to leave until you get a kiss, are you?" Blaine grinned sheepishly and shook his head until Kurt leaned across, meeting him halfway for a simple, chaste kiss—one that said everything was okay, despite their little misunderstanding.

Everything returned to normal for the rest of the day, and Thursday in general was a pretty good day. It was Friday that Blaine woke up in a foul mood and went through the motions of the day without any enthusiasm whatsoever. He wasn't sure what he'd do without Kurt who had taken to sending him an encouraging text every class period, and he was subtly trying to make Blaine feel better with soft, inconspicuous smiles all throughout class.

The end of the rolled around _far _too quickly for Blaine's tastes and the boy dragged his feet all the way down to the bus stop. He and Kurt had spent the majority of their usual making-out-in-the-car time yesterday talking about their usual after school routine and how today it might be best to skip. Blaine was eighty-five percent certain his parents (or at least one of them) were going to stay home today to make sure that he didn't find a way to get out of this date with Rachel and he wasn't comfortable with the risk of exposing his closeness with his teacher for an extra twenty minutes.

The ride home was painfully short. Blaine's mother was practically waiting at the door for him and he _insisted _he had homework that he needed to focus on before even _thinking _about getting ready for dinner tonight. He wasn't supposed to leave to pick up Rachel until six-thirty anyway, so there was more than enough time for him to focus on other things—such as all the excuses he could use to cut the date short. He had a mental list the length of his arm…but he was a _terrible _liar; he always had been, which was part of the reason he was so surprised that he'd managed to keep this whole dating-his-teacher thing under wraps.

The biggest problem, though…would be Rachel herself. From what Blaine remembered, she was a know-it-all type: determined, relentless, impossible, bossy, selfish and nosy. Overbearing, to say the very least. And all of this was coming from the boy who always, _always _tried his hardest to see the best in people and to focus on that. But there was always one exception, and Rachel seemed to be it. Blaine sighed as he tossed his backpack onto his bed, pulling out one of his textbooks and actually trying to get started on some of his homework—there was nothing quite like a boost of motivation when he knew he was going to be spending the rest of his night in absolute misery.

Blaine worked as long as he possibly could before stuffing his paper into his bag and rolling off of his bed to collect a change of clothes (nothing too fancy; a pair of dark slacks and a fitted, button-down black collared shirt with suspenders and a bowtie) to change into after his shower. It may be a date he absolutely did _not _want to go on, but it was still a date nonetheless and it had always seemed incredibly rude to Blaine to not shower before a date, even without the intention of getting within touching distance. Within half an hour, he was standing downstairs waiting for his mother to stop messing with his bowtie and Blaine hissed out a sigh. It wasn't even _half _as cute as when Kurt fixed his tie.

Blaine's parents shoved him out the door with just a little more cash than they thought he'd _need _to cover the bill, and after a twenty minute drive, Blaine was standing awkwardly at the Berry residence front door, knocking lightly in the hopes that no one would hear and he could just…sneak off.

No such luck—the door _flew _open, and there stood Rachel Barbara Berry, dressed head to toe in her tights, knee-length dress, cardigan and matching headband. Blaine noted that it seemed she hadn't changed much at all (except she wasn't wearing an animal sweater for once and Blaine briefly wondered if she had finally disposed of them). To put it quite frankly, she still looked fourteen.

"Oh, Blaine! It's so good to see you!"

And before Blaine could stop her, she had flung herself across the porch and into his arms, her arms wrapped around his neck. To say the very least, it was awkward. Blaine didn't know what to do with his hands and he was desperately trying to distance himself without coming off as too eager to get away. "Yeah…hi, Rachel," he supplied distantly, twisting out of her hug after an awkward pat against her back. "Are you ready to go?"

Those big brown eyes were ridiculously dramatic and Blaine was certain that Rachel lived her whole life as if it was an act on Broadway as she linked arms with him (much to his dismay) and wheeled him around back to the car, only releasing him at the passenger side door, as if she knew that she was the last person he really wanted to be opening doors before. Blaine knew he shouldn't be taking so much of his irritation out on her, but there was no one else to blame—he couldn't actually do or say much to his parents about it, and the only thing he wished for Rachel was that she were a little more in-tune with the feelings of those around her because, while she was clearly having a _wonderful_ time, Blaine was not and she didn't seem to even take notice or bother _asking _if his parents had the decency to ask him about this (because really, what seventeen year old actually had their parents ask a girl on a date for them?).

The car ride was, to say the least…interesting. Rachel never stopped talking long enough for Blaine to get a full sentence out—unless it was to ask about _her_. She went on and on about Glee club and all her solos and how she was the best performer, their star member and blah, blah, blah. At one point he made a slightly biting comment about how this must mean that she really didn't spend _every _Friday night practicing and recording anymore.

"Silly, of course not _every _Friday night! Otherwise I wouldn't be here with you, would I?" she smiled, reaching over to swat playfully at his leg—not even his arm which, Blaine would have liked to point out, was much nearer her reach—and the car jerked as Blaine's foot slipped, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel to not just snap "I have a boyfriend" at her right then and there. She seemed to think the potentially dangerous mishap was _flattering _when she sat back in her seat, eyes alight and practically glowing. How could she mistake completely discomfort for flattery? Blaine realized he'd forgotten how big Rachel Berrys head really was.

"So…your dads asked? To make sure this was okay with you and didn't conflict with pre-existing plans?" Blaine was certain he almost heard Rachel _snort _at the question, as if the answer was the most obvious thing on the planet.

"Of course they did. What kind of parents would they be if they didn't?" She bounced in her seat a little, sending another smile that Blaine could just barely see from the corner of his eye. "They seemed _very _excited that you wanted to take me out tonight. I mean, considering we basically _grew up _together, I think they were just waiting for the day when you realized—"

Blaine _had _to stop her. "Okay, Rach, first of all, we didn't exactly "grow up together"—we were in the same first grade class and our parents were acquainted when you insisted on sharing with them that I liked singing as much as you and also felt the need to point out _several _times how much better at it you were than me." Blaine spared a glance at her as he talked, but she didn't seem to really understand that just going to school together and occasionally talking didn't exactly warrant sharing all of their childhood days.

And it dawned on him that Rachel's parents must not have told her that his parents were the one to set this up—not him.

Well.

That was nice of them.

And yet it made the idea of this whole date so much worse. This wasn't his idea and he wasn't going to act like it was. Blaine wasn't going to pretend that he liked Rachel. He wasn't going to act like she was really his date. The most this would turn out was two old friends having dinner together. Nothing more, no matter how Rachel seemed to want it to end up. They would leave the restaurant tonight just the same as they'd entered.

The Olive Garden was packed when they arrived, but Blaine had reservations…reservations his mother had placed for him so they wouldn't have to wait so long. The wait time was only ten minutes by the time they entered and Blaine tried to get Rachel to take the one empty spot in the waiting area, but she seemed to enjoy invading his personal space more than the idea of sitting comfortably for ten minutes.

It was practically a godsend when the hostess called "Anderson, part of two" five minutes early. Blaine followed behind her, eager to escaped Rachel who he realized he probably had to spend another hour and a half with, possibly two if he counted driving her home. She kept making subtle grabs for his hand that he awkwardly avoided to fix his bowtie and scratch at a phantom itch on his neck.

They reached the table and Blaine ignored the fact that he probably would have wanted to be a complete gentleman if this was Kurt and pull his chair out for him. But, who was he kidding? Rachel didn't need to know that. Blaine took his seat a little more gracefully than Rachel who was already pouting and flopped down in her seat across from him with a huff as the hostess passed them each their menus and told them that their waiter would be right with them. Rachel talked endlessly—apparently two minutes of silence on a date was too much to ask (she stopped for all of thirty seconds when their waitress came by to ask for their drink orders and drop off some breadsticks), and while Rachel was stuck contemplating between whether or not the spaghetti would be better than the fettuccini alfredo, Blaine excused himself for the restroom.

It was kind of pathetic, he realized, that he couldn't make it twenty minutes into dinner without the desperate urge to rant. It was kind of pathetic that he felt the need to lock himself in the bathroom just to fish his phone out of his pocket and dial Kurt's number. It was a few rings before Kurt picked up and Blaine couldn't help but jump to the question of what he could have been doing during that extra ring longer than it usually took.

"Hello?"

"Kurt, I can't do this!" Blaine cried before his boyfriend had a chance of saying anything else.

"Oh, you'll be fine." Kurt's voice was even and almost uninterested and Blaine knew Mr. St. James must be right next to him and that put Blaine on edge possibly more than Rachel.

"No, I won't! She keeps touching me, Kurt! And all she talks about is herself and she's actually acting like this is a real _date_ and she seems to think _I _actually wanted to ask her out—and I'm not about to tell her that my parents set me up because, trust me, she would take it as me being too shy to ask her myself! I could probably tell her right now that I'm dating my teacher and she wouldn't bat an eyelash!"

"Don't!"

Kurt's voice rising in both volume and pitch startled Blaine to the point that he actually jumped slightly, and he heard Kurt excuse himself from Jesse with the explanation that it was his step-brother. "I didn't mean literally, Kurt. It was just an exaggeration."

"Just…Blaine, you can't even joke like that, okay? Not unless you're aiming to give me a heart attack."

"I'm sorry," Blaine offered impatiently, leaning back against the restroom counter after determining it was dry. Blaine sighed, crossing one arm over his chest and resting his elbow over it as he stood in silence with Kurt on the other line. "What about you?" Blaine asked apprehensively.

"What about me?" Kurt repeated.

"Your _date_—"

"Blaine, it's not a date," Kurt sighed, but there was the edge of a chuckle in his tone.

"Has he tried anything?" Blaine couldn't help but ask, or the help the bitterness in his voice that clearly displayed his jealousy for Mr. St. James's place.

"_No_, Blaine. He's been a perfect gentleman—"

"A _perfect _gentleman?" Blaine frowned, the despair evident in his voice.

"Blaine, get back to your date." Kurt was actually laughing now—quietly so, and Blaine could actually imagine how his shoulders would be shaking from trying to keep it under control.

"But my date should be with _you_," Blaine mumbled, the disappointment setting in over the frustration.

"I know, but it's just one night."

"I miss you."

"Goodbye, Blaine."

A defeated sigh escaped Blaine's lips and when he spoke, it was quiet and slow and sad. "Bye, Kurt." Blaine heard the quiet click of their disconnection sound from the other line and hung up his phone, stuffing it back into his pocket. He turned back to the sink, washing his hands just to kill time and scrubbing twice as long as typically recommended just to get another twenty seconds out of the way of this horrific date.

When Blaine returned to the table, Rachel had finally set her menu aside and their waitress had stopped by and dropped off their drinks. Rachel looked up, her face immediately lighting up as she sent an energetic wave across the dining room, as if Blaine may not remember where they were sitting and needed a hint. Trying not to roll his eyes or audibly groan, Blaine took his seat across from her and she immediately leaned forward on her elbows.

"So," she began in an irritatingly chipper tone that instantly reminded him of all the times in middle school that she wanted to tell him or the entire class about some new amazing idea she had. "The waitress came by while you were gone, and I figured you wouldn't really want to wait, so I just ordered for you!"

"But…I didn't tell you what I wanted," Blaine said, trying to remember if maybe he _had _mentioned out loud what he was planning on ordering and Rachel had _actually _listened to him.

"Oh, I know, but I figured you'd be fine with anything."

Blaine stared at her, the light in his hazel eyes dying with disappointment. "What did you order?"

"Well, since I wasn't sure what you wanted, I figure everyone likes pizza, so I just went with that."

Blaine sighed, eyebrows drawing together and he swore he felt some of his lifespan drain from his body. "Rachel…"

"Your menu was open to that page anyway!" she said defensively.

"Yeah, but that's not the only thing that was on that page…I can get pizza _anywhere_, literally. And probably better." Blaine leaned back in his seat, staring at his glass of soda despondently, reaching for his pocket once again. "You know, what…never mind. Can you hold on a second? I think I left my wallet in the car."

"I didn't see you set your wallet down—"

"I keep it in the glove compartment, Rachel. I'll be right back." And with that, Blaine was up again, crossing the restaurant and fishing his phone out of his pocket as he headed back for the bathroom.

"Blaine?"

"She ordered for me, Kurt!"

"What?"

"Rachel! The only thing I was looking forward to on this date was the Ravioli de Portobello! And she ordered_ pizza_! I can get pizza anywhere for a _hell _of a lot less!" The Italian rolled off his tongue naturally and if not for the silence on the other line, he would have continued complaining. "Kurt?"

"…I've never heard it pronounced that way."

Kurt's voice was deeper than usual and Blaine could practically see the way his eyebrows were probably lifted right now, maybe with his eyes slightly glazed over. The idea that they could be in their closet right now was _tantalizing_. "_Kurt_," Blaine whined.

"Well, I'm sorry, Blaine. What do you want me to do about it?"

"I want you to make it better…"

"Well, that'll have to wait."

"Until when?"

"Until after your date is home, safe and sound."

Blaine shifted his weight onto his other foot, his mind momentarily at ease. At least until he remembered Kurt wasn't technically alone either. "Where's Mr. St. James?"

"Hm? Jesse? Oh, he's getting us a couple of drinks."

"Drinks?" Blaine repeated, uncertainty setting back in. "You mean, like, alcoholic drinks?"

"Blaine, calm down," Kurt laughed. "Look, the show's starting in just a few minutes, so go back to your date with Rochelle—"

"Rachel."

A noncommittal sound came from the other end, causing Blaine to frown. Although, Blaine supposed he really didn't care to remember Jesse's name either. "I'll text you. Okay, Blaine?"

"I'm going to call you during intermission," Blaine warned.

"Good. Let me know how it's going."

"It'll be going horribly."

"Can't wait to hear it."

"Love you," Blaine said, unable to help the smile on his lips despite the unfortunate situation they found themselves in.

There was the smallest of appreciative hums, almost a chuckle from the other line and it was musical to Blaine. "Love you too, Blaine."

Blaine hung up for the second time that night and exited the bathroom as he shoved his phone back in his pocket, his wallet safely settled where it had been all along in the opposite pocket. By the time Blaine returned to the table, half the breadsticks were gone and Blaine took one for himself as Rachel asked about his wallet which he assured her he had now. Blaine learned that if he just kept his mouth shut and nibbled on his breadstick, Rachel would do all of the talking for him and all he had to do was nod and occasionally say, "Oh, yeah" and sometimes even a simple hum sufficed.

Rachel was talking for another ten minutes before Blaine felt his phone vibrate and reached for it absentmindedly. He was still nodding and as he read through the text, unable to help the slightly upturned corners of his lips, or the spark of interest suddenly alight in his eyes. Blaine typed a quick response, muttering an "Oh, really?" to something Rachel had said about some idea she had for glee club. "Mm, yeah, that's great," he said as he looked up after hitting send.

"Oh, I think that's our food!"

And sure enough, when Blaine looked up, the waitress was coming by with a plate of spaghetti and a pizza that, to be completely honest, didn't even look particularly good. Blaine knew he was just being picky because Rachel ordered it, and he was sure it tasted just fine, but he really just wasn't in the mood for pizza. The waitress dropped their food off and Blaine's phone vibrated again and he opened his new text, falling silent as Rachel dug in on her spaghetti. She was quiet, for once, and it wasn't until Blaine typed out his response, hit send and looked up—and no wonder Rachel was quiet. Her mouth was full of food—too full. For as much as she could talk, her mouth clearly wasn't big enough to hold that much spaghetti. Her face was _covered _in marinara sauce, and there even looked to be a bit of meat ball on her chin.

It took all of Blaine's will power not to groan as he looked away.

Blaine picked at his pizza as dinner carried on and he quickly learned that just because Rachel was quiet at first did not mean that she had actual table manners. At one point she leaned over the table and started talking about boy problems—problems Blaine was actually ecstatic to hear about because it had to mean that she didn't actually enjoy this date and she couldn't actually be mad that his phone was getting more action than she was. He did actually listen though and gave her honest advice, but with every new problem and every new answer, she seemed to grow angrier and angrier and Blaine was growing more and more confused and frustrated. What did she want from him?

Eventually, Blaine just kept to his phone, trying to ignore the chomping and smacking coming from across the table, not to mention the splatter of marinara that hit his hand as he reached for a breadstick that…just so happened to be covered in it. The idea that it might have come from her mouth was enough to completely turn his appetite off.

"…I have to go to the bathroom," Blaine finally grumbled, pushing his chair out a little more forcefully than was necessary and it took everything he had to not just fall out of his chair and crawl out of the restaurant like the desperate man he was.

She was yelling something after him—something utterly incoherent because her mouth was full of spaghetti noodles and breadstick. People were staring, but Blaine really didn't care. Anything to get away. As if on cue, Blaine's phone started vibrating again, this time continuously, alerting him to the fact that it was a call and not a text.

Blaine answered the instant he was behind the safety of the bathroom door. "Kurt, she is a _horrible _date!" he all but shouted. "No wonder she's never had a real boyfriend before and her parents had to set her up with someone whose parents are literally forcing him!"

"Whoa, whoa, Blaine. Calm down. What's wrong now?" Kurt asked, his voice as concerned as ever.

"Well, our food came out and she dug in—I mean _literally _dug in! When I left, her hands were covered in sauce up to her elbows! She was telling me about her boy troubles and I was trying to help her out, but she just kept getting angrier, and then she started eatinglike a wild animal! There's marinara sauce everywhere—oh, God, I have to wash my hands. It's probably in my hair, come to that." Blaine raised his free hand to his gelled curls, running his fingers through it pitifully before turning to the sink and shifting to hold his phone between his ear and his shoulder. "And the lower half of her face is covered in it and she looks like she's been eating ribs instead of spaghetti. It'd be a _lot _more understandable if we were eating ribs with our hands but I can't…I'm never going to be able to eat spaghetti again."

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt cooed, the sympathy there just as equally as the amusement.

"It's really not funny, Kurt," Blaine sighed as he dried his hands off on a couple of paper towels. "I love spaghetti and now every time I look at it, all I'm going to remember is Rachel's face and her mouth chomping on it and just…_ugh_."

"I know, Blaine. I'm sorry."

"How's the show?" Blaine asked after a moment, searching for another that might be better to talk about than Rachel. "What about St. James? Has he tried anything?"

"The show's good. Jesse put his hand on my thigh once—"

Blaine actually choked on air.

"—but I politely moved it away and everything's fine."

"No it's not! Kurt, this is terrible! My date's a pig and yours is a…a giant flirt."

"Mm, those weren't the first words you considered, were they?"

"…No," Blaine admitted, surprised to find that he wasn't so much ashamed of it as he initially thought. Kurt was laughing again and the sound once again helped put Blaine at ease, at least a little bit as he checked to make sure the counter was dry and lifted himself up onto it. "So, what are you doing right now?"

"I excused myself to the restroom, although since it's intermission and I know it's probably packed, I'm in our closet."

His voice was light and fond and despite the warmth flooding to the pit of his stomach at the memory, Blaine really could just sit there in silence with Kurt and listen as he looked around the closet where they'd held their first make out session—like, their first _real _make out session. "Intermission's half an hour?"

"Blaine, you can't sit in the bathroom for half an hour."

"Sure I can."

"Well, I can't."

"But you're not."

"But Jesse _thinks_ I am and I don't want _anyone _thinking I need half an hour in the bathroom."

"I know," Blaine sighed as he kicked his legs gently over the edge of the counter. He really wouldn't want anyone thinking he needed that long either, although this was the third time he'd left Rachel tonight, granted he'd said he was going to the car last time.

"Besides, he _might _get the wrong idea about why I moved his hand." There was a smile in Kurt's voice and Blaine's mouth dropped, even upon realizing it was just a joke.

"Kurt!" he reprimanded, though he doubted Kurt could hear over his stifled giggle. "That's not funny!" Yet even as he said it, Blaine couldn't help but smile because even the sound of Kurt's laughter, choked off and quiet, was still heartwarmingly beautiful. "You should go, then. I really don't want him to get the wrong idea now that you've gone and put that thought into my head."

"Okay. When do you think you'll be finished with dinner?" Kurt asked hopefully, almost as if he was planning something.

"I don't know…as long as Rachel takes to finish, I guess. Maybe I'll offer her my pizza as well and then it won't be a complete waste of money…"

"You're not eating?"

"No. I lost my appetite when she tried to shove an entire meatball in her mouth, which was already full of chewed up spaghetti."

"Okay, Blaine—no need to go crazy with the details."

"Yeah…"

"Well, the second act ends in about forty-five minutes, then I'm dropping Jesse off at his house. Maybe you can stop by for a few minutes before you head home and I can try to make your night a little better."

Blaine's eyebrows shot up and he smiled wide, suddenly much happier than he thought he could possibly be tonight. "Deal."

They said their goodbyes for the third time that night and Blaine slipped off the countertop, pushing the bathroom door open with slight spring in his step, staring down as his phone as he exited. He flipped it shut and, upon looking up, very nearly crashed directly into a furious Rachel Berry. She may be small, but she was standing tall, chin jutted out and eyes narrowed to slits, nostrils practically flaring. It would almost be comical if she hadn't taken the same stance his mother did whenever he was in severe trouble—arms crossed, fists clenched, head slightly cocked to the side as if evaluating him from a different angle might make him look more at fault.

"_On the phone_?" she snarled, throwing her arms down to her sides and stomping her foot noisily on the ground. "Is that where you've been running off to all night? Who are you talking to? You've been texting all through our date and I can only assume you had your wallet the whole night—it was never in the car, was it?"

The question wasn't posed nearly inquisitively enough to warrant an actual answer, so Blaine just shifted his weight, unable to help the wave of guilt that crashed over him. He couldn't help but also feel stubborn though—he hadn't asked for this, he hadn't wanted this, he didn't even like girls. His parents forced him into this and—_God_, his parents. Rachel was going to tell her dads and her dads were going to tell his parents and he'd be grounded for life. He'd never see Kurt outside of school again—

"_Blaine Anderson_!"

"What?" Oh, yeah. Rachel was talking. How could he forget?

"I asked you who you were talking to!"

Oh. Oh, shit. Blaine was not prepared for this question and while part of him screamed to say "boyfriend" and the other half tried to convince him to say "girlfriend" so he wouldn't get in trouble, he realized that landed him in an entirely different boiling pot in that, not only would Rachel thing he was a cheater, but his parents would want to meet the girl. "Someone I go to school with, okay?"

"Are you _serious_? You bailed on a _date _to talk to your _friends_?"

Blaine shoved past her, shaking his head as he shoved his phone into his pocket and stormed across the restaurant and back towards their table. "This was _not _my idea, Rachel," he muttered harshly as she strode up beside him, absolutely flaring up at the insinuation.

"What do you mean this wasn't your idea? _You _asked _me _out!" She was doing a much poorer job of keeping her voice down and people were starting to stare.

"I had plans tonight, Rachel!" Blaine hissed, turning to stare at her as he shoved the payment for the check (he'd kept a mental note of the tab, plus tax and tip and he still paid ten dollars over because he didn't want to wait around for them to break a twenty). "I didn't _want _to come out with you! I didn't ask you—our parents set us up, Rachel, and I'm pretty sure you know that, considering that if I'd actually wanted to talk to you so much that I called your house, I would have had the balls to ask for you." Blaine turned on his heel, Rachel flying after him after she grabbed her bag, calling after him the whole way.

"How was I supposed to know?" she snapped, trotting up to his elbow as they finally exited the restaurant, met by a blast of cool New York air. "Maybe you chickened out last night and decided to ask my dads to ask me for you instead!"

Blaine drew to a stop, whirling around so fast that Rachel nearly walked into him this time. "Oh, bull, Rachel! I know you don't believe that! And if you do, then God, you really think low of me, don't you? We haven't talked since the eighth grade, Rachel! Why would I suddenly decide to seek you out after four years of _nothing_? I wouldn't and you _know _that! Just because I go to private school doesn't mean I don't meet girls just as often as any guy in public school."

Rachel shoved past him, heading for the car before snapping at him to unlock it, and as tempting as it was to just drive off without her, Blaine wasn't going to abandon a girl in the middle of New York late at night and condemn her to any sort of rapist or psychopath. So with a pointed click of the button, the doors unlocked and Rachel flung the door open. "Don't slam the—"

Too late.

Blaine stormed after her, taking a little more care on his own car than she had bothered. She was sitting stiffly, pushed against the door as close as she could get, as far away from him as possible, and while Blaine would have loved to mimic the act, he had to drive. She stared out the window in silence for the entire car ride, and Blaine kept his fists clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles white and eyes focused straight ahead. He realized halfway to Rachel's that he wasn't exactly _seeing _the road and everything happening as he was just watching, letting wild, angry thoughts swarm in his head and distract him, just going through the motions of driving. He tried to breathe more and relax and just get Rachel home in one piece—being a poor date would get him grounded for a month. Getting Rachel killed would most likely land him in prison.

They reached the Berry residence and Rachel flung the door open again, not even bothering to look at him as she slid out of the car. "Can you _please_not slam the—"

_Bitch_, Blaine thought bitterly as his hands tightened around the steering wheel all over again. He waited as Rachel stormed up the driveway and reached the front of the house, letting herself in with, Blaine assumed, a key. Blaine shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the curb, turning away from his own house and towards Kurt, feeling incredibly lucky that the GPS had saved his last entry. When he reached Kurt's, he dialed the familiar number, but could only assume that Kurt wasn't home yet considering the drive from the theater was about half an hour, if he remembered correctly. Sure enough, the call went to voicemail (Kurt was doubtlessly driving, so Blaine was perfectly okay with the fact that he didn't pick up…except, he really wasn't okay at all because there was no way he was going to be allowed to see Kurt at this rate until, possibly, spring break).

For twenty-five minutes, Blaine sat in absolute silence. For twenty-five minutes, Blaine was left alone with just his thoughts. And for all of those twenty-five minutes, he thought of everything he was going to miss doing with Kurt because his parents were going to ground him for weeks for being such a poor date to sweet, innocent, lovely Rachel Berry. When Kurt's car rounded the corner (he'd gotten into that car enough times to know it even from a distance), Blaine flashed his lights once to alert Kurt that it was him before turning the car off completely and getting out. The car pulled to a stop and Blaine watched as Kurt leaned across and opened the door for him. It wasn't too late yet and Blaine couldn't go home when this was possibly the last time he would be able to see Kurt after school for a while.

Blaine climbed in and closed the door carefully, staring straight ahead for a minute before scratching absentmindedly at a spot behind his ear. "Can we go somewhere?" he asked dully after a moment.

"Anywhere in particular?" Kurt asked gently, and Blaine could feel those green eyes focused on him with concern and worry. Kurt knew he was upset without Blaine even having to say anything. It was such a drastic change from his entire evening and Blaine kind of loved that he didn't have to speak.

"Just…somewhere. Anywhere, really."

"Okay," Kurt said quietly, shifting the gear and pulling the car back up the slight incline to the parking garage. He threw a sidelong glance that Blaine only caught out of the corner of his eye and when he turned to look at Kurt, he was holding his hand out for Blaine to take. Their fingers intertwined and locked and Blaine already felt a bit better. Even silence with Kurt was comforting.

It was nothing special. Just the parking garage. But Blaine had meant "anywhere" when he said so. This end was empty, but Blaine still frowned—he couldn't help but think that a lot of people seemed to be attacked in parking garages, and the idea of Kurt making this walk by himself at night wasn't really a good one. Kurt pulled into a spot in the corner and turned the car off. Blaine heard the click of a seatbelt unbuckling and Kurt shifted in his seat to face him, and for a minute they sat in silence, Blaine looking down at his hands.

"Do you want to talk about why you're so upset?" Kurt asked, clearly aware that Blaine wouldn't be this upset if their respective dates were over and everything would be back to normal.

"She caught me on the phone," Blaine supplied weakly. "It wouldn't be such a big deal if it was just once. But I left three times, I lied, I texted throughout dinner, and even when I was trying to pay attention to her and give her advice, she was still furious." Blaine shrugged, finally turning to look at Kurt, catching the flicker of fear in his feature. "Oh, no. I told her I was on the phone with a friend from school."

Kurt visibly relaxed and reached for his hand again and Blaine continued, staring at the middle console between them. "Even if her parents tell mine—which, I know they will because she'll convince them to—they'll just assume it was Jeff or one of the guys." He looked up again, hazel eyes meeting green, and Blaine couldn't tell if it was just the odd lighting of the parking garage that made them look green, or if they were really just more green today than blue.

"But, I was a really terrible date, and my parents probably already know all about Rachel's side of the story and I'm going to be grounded for weeks. Even if I tell them how awful she was, I already threw a fit and they know I didn't want to be there, and they're going to assume I was just being stubborn…maybe I was. I don't know. I just feel like I really messed up. All the time we have is after school and I'm going to be housebound for a month." Somewhere during the explanation, Blaine had shifted to face Kurt as well, his back leaned against the door of the car, part of it jutting out into his back, but he didn't really mind. Blaine was fiddling with Kurt's hand in his lap, absentmindedly running his fingers in looping swirls around his palm.

Kurt was a really good listener, though. Blaine had never really taken note of that before, but now that he had, he really appreciated it. Kurt turned his hand over in Blaine's, linking their fingers together again. "We'll figure something out," he said gently, leaning forward slightly. "Don't worry about it too much, Blaine. The most you can do is try to explain to your parents how very unladylike she was—"

"It won't matter, though," Blaine interjected truthfully. "They're family friends. We've know the Berrys since I was in first grade and they'll see it as a reflection on _them_, and that's worse than anything for my parents. It has nothing to do with _me_ and the fact that _I _look bad—it has everything to do with the fact that me looking bad makes _them _look bad."

Actually saying the words and hearing them out loud hurt more than Blaine ever imagined. He'd been aware of the fact for years that his parents were more concerned with their pride at times and their image than they were of Blaine. Everything was taken from a business approach—they were only friends with the Berrys, Rachel's dads, because it made them look good. It made them look like open-minded, tolerant, unprejudiced people, but they said things behind closed doors and drawn blinds that had terrified Blaine of ever telling them who he was.

"Hey," Kurt cooed softly, leaning over the middle console to his fingers gently over Blaine's cheekbone and behind his ear, toying lightly with one of the curls that had fallen free of his sloppy job on his hair gel earlier. Blaine sat up, pushing his back off the door as Kurt pulled his hand back. Kurt smiled reassuringly and Blaine, who did feel quite a bit better after talking to Kurt, returned it. Apparently Kurt took that as an invite—an invite Blaine hadn't intentionally sent but now felt silly for not realizing—and leaned all the way over, balancing himself on his elbow against the middle console, pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss. Blaine closed his eyes the moment their lips met, pressing into it for more. Kurt pushed back, a light smile on his lips as he gave in to Blaine, who had brought his hands up out of his lap—one to rest against Kurt's face, trying to pull him further in, and using the other to hold desperately to his shirt as if this was the last time they would ever see each other again.

Blaine parted his lips the instant he felt that familiar sensation of Kurt's tongue dragging across his lip, handing dominance over to Kurt gladly. It was nothing quite like the closet, though. For as long as it would be before they could really do this, everything felt sweeter and slower and loving, comforting and safe. Kurt stroked at his face with the lightest of touches, his hand slipping down over his shoulder and his thumb running over the skin of his neck. Blaine shivered lightly, running his hand through Kurt's hair carefully. It was unbelievably soft.

Before Blaine was ready for it to end, Kurt was pulling away from the kiss with a final, playful nip to Blaine's bottom lip. Only…maybe it wasn't quite over. Kurt was retreating, but there was a light smirk on his lips that looked almost a little uncertain but daring and Blaine felt the smallest of tugs from Kurt, who had a firm grip on his suspenders, pulling Blaine back with him. It took a second for Blaine to react, momentarily bewildered by the idea that Kurt wanted to venture as far as taking their making out in the car ever so slightly further, in a parking garage no less. It didn't take long before Blaine was obliging though, pushing himself out of seat enough to crawl over the center console and straddle Kurt's lap. _Oh_.

Blaine could feel Kurt hard beneath him. A little shiver ran up his spine as he leaned down, kissing at Kurt's jaw and soon down to his neck when Kurt leaned it back against the headrest to give him more access. Kurt made no objections, just obscene and beautiful noises as he grinded up against Blaine. Through his lashes, Blaine looked down at Kurt, who looked completely unraveled. His hair was a mess (despite the care Blaine had tried to take while running his hands through it a moment ago), his eyes were shut, and his lips were slightly parted, emitting the occasional pant and _almost_moan. Blaine had only dreamt of seeing Kurt like this. So as Kurt lifted his hips up against Blaine for the second time, Blaine rolled back against him. A whimper from Kurt sent Blaine dizzying into lust.

"Say something, Kurt. Fuck, please? Just let me know this is real." Kurt took a long time before responding. Their uneven, breathless pants filled the car. Kurt's breathing grew more unsteady, and if Blaine hadn't been so focused on grinding his hips back down into Kurt's and trying to keep a literal grip on everything by digging his fingertips into Kurt's shoulders, he would have realized sooner what was happening.

"_Blaine..._" He was unsure if Kurt would be able to get anything else out. "_Fuck, you're amazing. Blaine._"

Kurt's hips were moving faster, needier, the curious lifting of his hips as if to test the feeling turning into these full-blown bucks. Blaine recognized the edge, the want. He provided, moving with Kurt as they found a fantastic rhythm, until he saw it. Kurt's hips jerked one final time, lips stuck in an open "o" shape, fingers gripping onto Blaine's hips tight enough to hurt, but only in the most pleasant of ways. "_Blaine..._" His teacher moaned, panting as he began to return to reality.

"Shit, Mr. H- Kurt?" Blaine shifted and Kurt grimaced, alerting Blaine to the fact that he was fast growing oversensitive. And still, a sly grin spread across Blaine's face. "You came first...?"

Kurt looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. "Obviously." Kurt's hand slipped out of view to the side of the seat and Blaine lurched forward as the seat fell back. He grabbed for Kurt's shoulders again, not quite realizing what had happened when Kurt started fumbling with the zipper of Blaine's pants. "I need you to do something, Blaine."

Blaine watched Kurt; Kurt looked exhausted and pleased, a flush stuck on his face. "What?" Blaine winced at how panicked he sounded, voice high and curious.

"J-...Just say, um...sex."

"W-what?"

"Look, I told you that I wouldn't- not until you could go without saying 'doing it'. So please..."

"What…? Kurt?" "

Long, pale fingers slipped into the opening, taking Blaine's cock and leading it out of its confines. Blaine jumped, ass moving back and hitting the horn.

_BEEP_. "_Sex!_" He could barely hear himself over the horn.

"Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Blaine muttered, heart racing because Kurt's hand still hadn't left his dick. Kurt was just chuckling, hand slowly moving along the length.

"Shh. Relax." The hand gripped around the base, moving up to the tip so Kurt's thumb could rub the pre-come around the tip. Blaine bit his bottom lip, _needing_to look down to see if this was real.

It was real. The sight of Kurt's hand around him nearly sent him over edge. His eyes flickered up to Kurt's face, who seemed to be in a deep concentration and equally turned on. Kurt met his gaze, a sly grin stuck on his face. His hand had stopped moving. He almost seemed to be _challenging_Blaine to do something.

So Blaine thrust up into the hand, and _fuck_did it feel right and good. Kurt's hand began pumping again after that, starting out slow and increasing with time. Blaine could hear himself muttering obscenities under his breath; he could hear his low, ragged breath; he could feel the warmth filling the car and his lower abdomen; he could feel Kurt's smooth fingers against him. Blaine braced himself against Kurt, hands gripping his shoulders hard, shoulders and back stiff as he hung his head. It was all too much. He was coming in Kurt's hand in what felt like all too soon. His back arched, his head flew back, and his hips gave a final, quivering jerk. A whimper escaped his lips at how perfect the whole situation felt.

When his eyes flickered open, Kurt's hand was leaving his cock. And Kurt was licking the cum off his hand. His cum. Blaine almost had to look away, but Kurt was looking up at him as he did it in possibly one of the most teasing manners he'd ever seen. "S-shit Kurt."

Once he'd cleaned off his hand, it returned to Blaine and proceeded to tuck him back in his pants. It was then that Blaine finally collapsed down against him, heart pounding and breathing slowly returning back to normal. Blaine snuggled into Kurt, wrapping one of his arms around to rest against Kurt's side before he reached out to take his other hand in his own. Kurt's free hand was rubbing Blaine's back lightly.

For a few peaceful minutes, they stayed like that in complete silence. If Blaine thought he would have any chance of convincing Kurt to let him stay, he would have just closed his eyes and gone to sleep right there. But he knew Kurt, and Kurt was responsible and Kurt knew his parents expected him home tonight and Kurt would make sure that happened. So Blaine kept his eyes open and spent every second of those few precious minutes basking in Kurt's presence.

Their breathing had fallen in synch by now, and their chests rose and fell together. It was only when Kurt took a deep breath—a sigh—that Blaine stiffened and turned his face into Kurt's chest, nuzzling at his neck before those disappointing words passed his lips, "We can't stay here, you know."

"Can I stay at your house tonight?" Blaine asked hopelessly. He was tired—happy, but tired—and the idea of going home made him recoil further against Kurt, drawing his body even nearer if that was at all possible.

"Blaine, you need to go home…" It was clear by his tone that Kurt wasn't exactly looking forward to it either.

"It won't matter. I'll spend the rest of the night here and then go home and take my punishment tomorrow. It'll be the same either way—"

"No, Blaine," Kurt shook his head, the bottom of his chin rubbing against the top of Blaine's head. "Think about it. If you go home now, you get maybe a couple of weeks. If you stay out all night with no explanation and no warning, they could _double _your punishment."

Another lengthy moment of silence and then it was Blaine's turn to sigh. "I know," he said in defeat, tightening his grip around Kurt.

It was still another fifteen minutes of trading off between talking and sitting in silence before Blaine felt Kurt nudging him gently up and telling him he really needed to get home. "Come on. I'll walk you to your car."

Blaine finally sat up, swinging his leg around Kurt and crawling back into his own seat and clambering out of the car when Kurt unlocked it. They met around the back of the car, clasping their hands together and starting the journey out of the parking garage and down to the front of Kurt's building where Blaine had parked. Blaine stood in a discouraged daze as Kurt said goodbye, kissed his knuckles and his forehead and said those three words again. "I love you too," Blaine assured looking up at Kurt with utterly disheartened eyes and what looked like a broken heart. He wrapped his arms around Kurt again in a tight hug and Kurt rubbed his back a moment before gently prying him off.

"Drive safe, okay?"

"I will."

"If your parents don't take your phone away, text me so I know you got home alright."

"Okay."

Blaine made no motion as if to really move though and Kurt shook his head slightly, reaching around him to open his door. "Go home, Blaine."

"Fine…I'm going." Blaine ducked into his car and Kurt closed the door for him, leaning in as Blaine rolled the window down.

"You know we'll see each other again in less than two days, right?" Kurt asked, smiling all the while.

"I know…it's just

ever the same at school as it is when we got out. I understand why, of course," Blaine assured hurriedly. "But…it still doesn't really compare."

"I know," Kurt nodded. "But it will get better." He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Blaine's lips, pulling back after a second to whisper a loving, "Goodnight, Blaine," in his ear.

Blaine bid Kurt goodnight and rolled the window back up as his boyfriend stepped away from the car. Starting up the engine, he waved to Kurt before pulling out of the space and driving down to the main street, throwing glances back in his mirror until Kurt was out of sight. He drove home with a heavy heart, but Kurt had more than accomplished his goal of making Blaine's night a little better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

* * *

><p>Much to Kurt's dismay, Blaine had indeed been grounded. Kurt tried to do anything to help, like offer suggestions of how to explain the date to his parents and how to convince them it wasn't his fault. He even gave Blaine ever so slightly higher marks to help him prove to his parents he wasn't rebelling. Kurt knew there was most definitely a rule about this, but at this point, he didn't even care. <em>He'd given a student a hand job<em>; a slightly raised mark wasn't the worst of his concerns.

Blaine wasn't kidding when he said his parents were strict, though. They'd grounded him until spring break, which was nearly two months. He'd done everything to try to explain the situation to his parents _except_ tell them he was gay. Kurt had tried to suggest that option, but Blaine went pale whenever the idea was mentioned. Kurt had been lucky; he had an understanding, loving, and open dad. Thus, it was a little hard for him to understand why Blaine might be so nervous about telling his parents he's gay. Either way, he wasn't going to push the issue. Blaine would come out to his parents when he was ready.

In this time, though, Kurt found it hard to occupy himself. He'd kept up with his grading to an unhealthy degree. It now felt wrong to go out without Blaine, especially alone to a bar. It felt like he was trying to pick someone up, which he most certainly was not. Kurt was not terribly fond of drinking, either. And going to the theater just felt lonely…

So most of Kurt's nights were either alone on his sofa, watching television or grading papers, or at the gym. He remembered this was how it used to be before Blaine, but it all seemed so distant now. He was so used to always talking to Blaine, even if only through text, but his parents took his cell phone away when he got home (They let him have it during school in case of emergency, but they turned texting off). Kurt couldn't even drive him home anymore, because his parents expected a phone call _as soon_ as Blaine got home. Kurt _had_ to stay later than when school ended, helping students and attending teacher meetings. So Blaine got used to using the bus or his own car again, always sneaking by before he left for a quick kiss and a sad look.

His parents timed his internet use, but Blaine still got on instant messenger with Kurt. It usually wasn't for long, but it was nice to see his face when they video called on Skype. (Kurt couldn't help but notice some band posters on Blaine's wall that he didn't recognize. He took a mental note to ask Blaine about them later.)

It was when his parents went out on a date that things took an interesting turn. They turned off the internet, so he didn't have that, but he called Kurt on his house phone. In all honesty, their phone call started out innocent.

_Kurt was washing his dishes when his cell phone rang. His brows furrowed: no one called him. Well, Blaine did, but he was grounded, thanks to that Rachel bitch. The furrowed brows shot up though when he saw " __**Blaine Home**__" flashing on the screen. Once he realized what was happening, he didn't waste a second to answer._

"Hello?" He chewed his lip nervously. It was quite possible that it would be Blaine's parents asking about Blaine's grades or some other inconsequential thing. It seemed unlikely, though, since he only ever gave his work phone out to parents.

"_Mr. Hummel? Kurt, I mean? That's you, right?" Kurt grabbed at his chest, hearing Blaine's voice. It's not that he hadn't heard it over the past couple of weeks, but it was still miserable to go __**this long**__without hearing it. _

"_Hey, Blaine. Yes, it's me. Who else would it be? Jesse St. James?" Silence buzzed over the phone for a second._

"_That isn't funny, Kurt. It could perfectly well be Mr. St. James. It's not as though he wouldn't jump at the chance to be at your place…and we haven't really been able to see each other lately. I mean, I wouldn't blame you…it'd break my heart, but I'd understand…"_

"_Stop. Blaine, stop. One, I wouldn't cheat on you. Two, I love you, Blaine," He could hear the boy's breath catch over the phone. "I have no intentions of breaking up with you." Kurt lifted himself up onto the counter of his kitchen, letting his feet swing freely as his dishes were left to soak in the soapy water he'd abandoned. Then the thought occurred to him: How was Blaine even calling right now? "So, Mr. Anderson, what brings this call? I mean, couldn't you get in trouble for this?"_

"_Well, I __**could**__, but my parents are out. They aren't going to shut down the house phone, I mean, that could be dangerous. What if the house caught on fire?" Kurt chuckled. _

"_You sneaky little bastard." Kurt felt like he was back in high school, the days where he actually had someone telling him what he could and couldn't do. It was odd; he'd been independent for so long now. "How long do we have?"_

"_Well, they'll be out for a couple of hours. They went on a date to a movie." There was a moment of silence. "What have you been up to?"_

"_Boring adult stuff." He waited for Blaine to say something, because he didn't want to bore Blaine with the details, but as always, Blaine was waiting to listen. He could never get used to how Blaine didn't mind listening to anything and everything he said. "I was just washing the dishes. I went to the gym. I paid some bills, graded the last of the test. You got an A, by the way. Um, that's about it. It's really lonely, not being able to text you." _

"_I know, Kurt. I miss it too." He could hear Blaine walking around in his house. It felt too weird to ask where he was going, but then he heard chewing over the receiver and realized he'd gotten a snack._

"_So what have you been up to?" It always felt weird to ask that after rambling about himself, but it was only polite to return the gesture._

"_Aside from the fact that I'm __**almost**__ tempted to see if I can join the basketball team this late in the season just to get out of this house? Nothing." Kurt had to laugh. The mental image of Blaine playing basketball was just too much. He was just so tiny. "That's so not funny! I get home and do homework __**way**__ in advance. I can't even watch television. Do you know how many books I've read so far? Neither do I because I lost count! And then every time I go to text you or call you because I miss your voice," Kurt's heart skipped a beat at that, "I can't! It's miserable Kurt."_

"_It'll be over soon enough." He was really trying to be reassuring, but he was struggling with being apart just as much as Blaine was. Then it was silent. What was there to talk about? They hadn't done anything in the past month._

"_Wanna play twenty questions?" _

"_Um. Sure. You start though." It seemed a little childish; he hadn't played twenty questions since high school. Then again, he had to remind himself, Blaine __**was**__ in high school._

"_What's your favorite color?" Of all the questions to ask, of course Blaine would ask something as trivial as his favorite color._

"_Purple. What's one thing you want to do before you die?"_

"…"

"_What? Blaine…?"_

"_Promise you won't laugh? I mean, it's kind of silly." He could practically see Blaine's face in his mind right now, shifting nervously, fingers grabbing onto the bottom of his shirt, and his brows knit down. _

"_I'd never laugh if it was something important to you, Blaine." Kurt shifted, trying to prepare himself for the answer in case it did make him laugh. For all Kurt knew, Blaine's dream could be to be a clown, although he highly doubted this._

"_I want to sing for people. Not just anywhere, , in a huge venue, like the Staples Center, and I want it to be full. I want to look out and hear their cheers and hear them sing along to songs __**I **__wrote."_

"_Blaine, you'll get there one day? Okay?" Kurt's heart was practically swelling with love for this boy and his big dreams. Kurt used to dream big like that, and then he became a teacher. He loved teaching, but he used to dream of singing in front of a crowd, too. When his dad had a heart attack, though, he wanted to be able to support him in any way he could, and performing doesn't exactly always pay. Especially not when you're just starting out. Kurt was willing to support Blaine along the way, though. Blaine deserved his dreams more than anyone else Kurt had ever met, so he'd love and support the boy any way he could._

_The questions stayed innocent like that for a while, but eventually Blaine asked…naughtier, questions. Kurt was drinking water and nearly choked at the first naughty question Blaine asked._

"_Do you masturbate?"_

"_**What?**__" _

"_We're allowed to ask anything. Do. You. Masturbate?"_

"_I get that, but what kind of question is that? Of all the questions, you ask __**if**__ I masturbate? What do you expect me to say? "No, Blaine, of course not. I'm practically a monk."" _

"_Fine, then. Do you ever masturbate thinking about…__**me?**__"_

_Kurt shifted. He obviously had, but it was a bit of an invasive question. Ever since they'd messed around in the car, Kurt couldn't get the mental image of Blaine's cock out of his mind. It intruded from the time he got home, and frequently, until the time he went to bed. It didn't help that he was so distanced from Blaine, otherwise it might be better, although he doubted it. He'd gone without sex for so long. "Blaine, you can't change your question."_

"_You __**encouraged**__ me to change my question, and then you tell me I can't? I say I can, and I say you're just too shy to answer it. Would it help if I answered it first? Because I do. I mean, I do think of you." Kurt choked on the air this time. Some part of him figured Blaine did, but he'd never actively thought of it. If Kurt hadn't been so distracted in his own thoughts, he may have heard how nervous Blaine sounded when he said that._

"_Well, um, yes. I guess. I mean, no, I don't guess. I mean yes. Yes." Despite having had sex before, Kurt still got mildly uncomfortable talking about the subject. Especially when it ventured off the "normal" sex. Kurt was quite "vanilla" when it came to his sexcapades. _

"_Your turn."_

"_What? How—I can't think of anything after that." Kurt shifted. "Just ask another one. I'll catch up eventually."_

"_Are you __**in the mood**__ right now?" Kurt was tensing up so much he was practically shaking because, quite frankly, it should be forbidden for Blaine to be saying any of this when he wasn't allowed to see Kurt._

"_Yes, Blaine. A little, I mean." He shifted on the counter uncomfortably, half hard in his pants. _

"_Feel free to say no or whatever, Kurt, but I was thinking maybe we could __**try**__ doing i—phone…sex, I mean." Kurt was already off the counter, hurrying to his bed and flopping back in it. His hand was rubbing against himself through his pants as Blaine continued. "I mean, it's been a while since the car…"_

"_Yes. I mean, sure. I…Lets…How does this start? Should I tell you that I'm rubbing against myself through my pants? That I'm laying on my bed right now? Shit, that sounds weird to say out loud, doesn't it?" Kurt could have sworn he heard a whimper through the phone. _

"_No no, that's what you're supposed to do. Kurt, uh, I've taken off my pants and um…" He heard the boy swear under his breath. "This isn't how I expected this to happen. I thought it'd just come more naturally…"_

"_Phone sex isn't really natural." Kurt pressed the phone between his ear and shoulder, unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down with his boxer-briefs. When he placed his hand on himself, he forced out a moan. When he was alone he usually kept the noise to a minimum; it was weird to make noise when there was no one around to hear it. He had to remind himself that he wasn't __**really **__alone though, because Blaine was on the line and could hear everything. "That night, though Blaine. Mm. The way you unraveled on top of me. The way you looked completely fucking into it."_

_Another whimper came from the other side. "My hand is-s at the base of my penis." Kurt chuckled at the use of the word "penis". It felt like such a school term now. "I'm pretending it's your hand though." Kurt's laughter stopped. Oh. __**Oh.**_

_Kurt had been stroking himself slowly and lazily, not really expecting this phone sex thing to actually go anywhere. It had always been one of those things he'd heard of, but not expected himself to do. "Fuck, Blaine." He could practically feel the testosterone pumping through his veins as he began to move his hand faster over himself, dragging his precome along the length. "Have I ever told you how incredibly sexy you can be without even realizing it? You don't even try, which is what makes it so fucking amazing and I just want you. All of you."_

"_Oh God, Kurt. Fuck, I want you too." He heard the breathing over the phone increase, and they were mostly silent after that. Just the occasional pant, groan, or whimper. The warmth was creeping up in Kurt's stomach, his hand hurrying its pace as he felt it. Normally, he'd want to drag the feeling out and try to slow down once he felt that sensation in his lower abdomen, but this was an exception because all he could think about was Blaine in the car. His cock in Kurt's hand, his face, and the way he was gripping as if to hold on to reality. _

_There was no going back as he felt the warmth begin to spread through his body. His hips were thrusting up into his hand, come spilling out over his hand. His head was pressed into the phone, whispering Blaine's name over and over again. He could vaguely hear Blaine doing the same with his name. He squeezed himself a tad tighter, hand motions slowing as he felt himself coming to again. And then he was left panting into the phone. He could hear Blaine doing the same. They stayed like that for a little bit before Kurt finally groaned and reached over to grab a tissue. His clean up job was subpar at best, but it was still better than letting it dry on, or worse, letting it get on his sheets. The smell of sex had permeated the room, but he didn't really care. The only thing he wanted right then was Blaine in his arms. That wouldn't come for a while, though, and even when it did, it wouldn't be permanent for even longer. He let out a sigh._

_They talked on the phone for a little while. Blaine was already a drowsy mess after that. Most of his words were incoherent at best, if not just random grunts to acknowledge he was still there. It was kind of cute. They finally had to go when Blaine looked at the clock and realized his parents would be home within the next half hour or so, so they said their goodbyes and hung up. _

_Kurt finally finished his dishes, took a shower, and crashed on his bed._

Ever since this revelation, they'd done it a couple more times. With every time it was less and less awkward. It got to the point where when his phone rang and said "**Blaine Anderson**", Kurt was already hopping into bed and pulling his pants down. It felt horribly wrong, but the more comfortable Blaine got with it the better he got _at_ it and the harder it was to resist. He was describing how his hand moved and how hard he was, and while Kurt considered himself a pretty strong guy, he couldn't help but get turned on by that.

Even so, Kurt had the day Blaine's grounding was lifted marked on his calendar. It had a big star and was circled. It was the first day of spring break, though, and he could only imagine that Blaine might be going out of town. Most of the senior class was planning to go to Florida, and he hadn't had the he heart to ask Blaine if he was, too. Kurt was still hopeful, and he had a million hugs and cuddles saved for Blaine if he did stay.

The time passed slowly. Painfully, achingly slow. But, inevitably, the day before spring break came. The entire class was working on their midterm, so it was dead silent. Not even Blaine looked up from his test. Kurt took this opportunity to watch Blaine: The way he stuck his tongue out from between his lips when he was concentrating, the way he would go to run his hands through his hair only to realize it was gelled, the way he tapped his pencil until Jeff kicked him to make him stop.

When he noticed the first student finishing up, he stopped gazing at Blaine. He folded his hand neatly on his desk and smiled as the kid walked up, nervously laying it on his desk. The rest of the period was miserable now, because if he watched Blaine someone might catch on. So he grabbed a midterm and began to grade; the faster he got these done the more free time he'd have.

Blaine didn't finish until near the end of class. Kurt offered a reassuring smile; his tests were hard. They were intended to prepare students for the AP test. Kurt almost couldn't believe how soon that was about to roll around. He couldn't believe how fast everything had gone by since he and Blaine had gotten together. It'd been nearly four months and nothing had gone wrong. It almost felt like a miracle.

When class finally ended, Blaine waited until everyone left before stepping up to Kurt's desk without cue. Kurt looked up, removing the reading glasses he had been using while grading papers, and gave Blaine a second. The boy looked lost in thought, or confused. "Should I get the door?"

Blaine shook his head. "No. I was just—My grounding ends tomorrow. It's spring break, and my parents are out of town." Kurt stared for a moment.

"Your parents are out of town?" His head tilted to the side, waiting for Blaine to say what he wanted to say. He always let the boy work through his thoughts.

"Yeah, and I'm not leaving…so I was thinking maybe you could come over? See my place for once? Well, technically my parents' place." Blaine placed a hand on Kurt's desk, brows getting closer in worry.

"Blaine, of course I'll come over." Kurt smiled, Blaine already leaning over Kurt's desk for a kiss. It was so routine, so familiar already. He responded by leaning over, lips meeting Blaine's for a quick kiss. Admittedly, his eyes flicked over at the door beforehand, just in case. He hated having to do it, but if even one person knew…

"They leave in the morning tomorrow, so maybe you could hang out in the afternoon." Kurt nodded as Blaine smiled. They said their goodbyes before Blaine hurried out and to lunch.

The rest of Kurt's day was uneventful. He didn't have much to look forward to. He had two classes, and then the end of the day would finally come. There was still no bringing Blaine home, as he had to grade papers and enter grades until much later into the afternoon. Blaine did come by before he left, popping in just to wave a goodbye to Kurt and remind him about the next day. Kurt nodded, telling him to get out in a playful manner. Then, he was left to himself.

Grading had always been the worst part in teaching. Kurt hated monotony. During class, it was like acting. He had to get up in front of a crowd of students, keep them entertained, not be shy, and still teach them. Every day was a new challenge and no day was ever alike. There were so many variables when there were twenty-something students were thrown into the mix.

Once he finished entering the last grade, Kurt got up from his desk and made his way home. It felt routine, and not the good kind of routine he had with Blaine. He liked that they kissed every day nearly the same time; he didn't like that he did the same thing every night alone. Feeling shitty, Kurt grabbed a beer and spent the night relaxing on the couch.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he woke up to his phone buzzing on the table. His beer was only half empty, and he cursed himself for wasting half a beer. Pressing the answer button on his phone, he placed his phone to his ear.

"Hello?" He murmured, still half asleep.

"_Hey, it's Blaine. I got my phone back!_" Kurt sat up, looking for the nearest clock. It was only ten o'clock in the morning, meaning Blaine's parents hadn't left long ago.

"Morning, Love." A tiny squeak came from the line. Kurt finally got up, rubbing an eye as he walked over to the kitchen and grabbed the orange juice out of the fridge. He felt disgusting, still wearing the clothes he was yesterday, so after he poured himself a glass of juice, he shrugged his vest off. He pulled his tie off and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his white shirt. It wasn't much, but it was at least _something_ until he could shower.

"_You're still coming over, right?_"

"Of course I am, Blaine." Kurt sipped at his orange juice while placing two slices of whole wheat bread into his toaster. "Is there anything I should bring?" Kurt let out a teasing chuckle. "Like porn?"

"_Shut up! I didn't know!_ _Just—just get over here. I miss you._"

"Fine, fine. Just give me time to shower and get ready."

"_Are you kidding? Kurt, that could take __**forever**__._"

"Just give me an hour or two? I crashed on the couch last night."

"_An_ _hour or two?" _His boyfriend whined. Kurt began finishing unbuttoning his shirt and shrugged it off, carefully switching ears as he pulled each sleeve off. He tossed his shirt into the dirty hamper and unbuttoned his pants, leaving them like that. It felt too weird to completely undress with such an innocent phone call going on.

"Yes, Blaine, an hour or two. I'd rather not stink."

"_Fine. I'll see you in an hour or two_." Blaine sighed, they said their goodbyes, and then hung up.

Kurt rushed his usual routine. He was eager to see his boyfriend one on one for the first time in weeks. It was tearing him apart. He still had to look good, though.

His hair was sprayed into place, but not so heavily that it wouldn't move. It still had to look fluffy and natural. It was spring break, so he didn't have to wear work clothes. At the same time, he was still going out so he wanted something dressier than his Diet Coke shirt. So he put on a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, a blue and gray vertical striped shirt, and a pair of dark gray venetian style shoes. He finished off with a dark belt with a shiny silver buckle. It was modest compared to some of the stuff Kurt had in his closet, but he didn't want to scare Blaine off. He'd just slowly let Blaine get use to his fashion-forward sense of style.

Kurt didn't realize how much he was rushing to get to Blaine until he got stuck in traffic. He sat there with the radio on, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He was so close and yet so far from Blaine and it was nearly killing him.

But he did eventually make it. Blaine lived in Staten Island. He lived in a huge house—almost painfully so. It made Kurt shift uncomfortably every time he saw it; he couldn't help but want to hang his head in shame at the size and dinginess of his own apartment compared to Blaine's home. Although he doubted the Andersons paid millions for it, it had to be worth that now.

Blaine was already hurrying down the driveway as Kurt parked, and once Kurt was out of his car, Blaine's arms were wrapped around him. Kurt kissed Blaine's forehead.

"Hey. It's been a while." Blaine was nuzzling into Kurt's shoulder, but managed to hum a response. They stood like that, holding onto each other for a while. In such a snooty neighborhood, he doubted anyone would look, and if they did, they'd turn a blind eye.

"Are you ready for the tour?" Blaine was still resting his head on Kurt's shoulder, not wanting to break contact.

"I guess." Kurt finally locked his car, and they walked into Blaine's house hand in hand.

Blaine's house was as extravagant as Kurt had imagined from seeing the outside. First off, it was huge. It had four bedrooms and four and a half bathrooms. No one who didn't know someone got a four bedroom house. Then there was the fact that everything was so posh. All of the woods matched; Kurt would be lucky if he could afford two things in the same color of fake wood. Blaine seemed embarrassed by it all as he gave the tour. He tried to show Kurt only the main rooms, like the living room, dining room, kitchen, and his bedroom, but Kurt wanted to see everything.

It was then that they ended up on the couch. Blaine didn't even bother with the formalities: His lips flew to Kurt's and his hands were on Kurt's thighs. It wasn't until Blaine's hands became more adventurous and Kurt found himself bucking against them that he finally had to nudge Blaine away.

"What? W—It's been so long and I thought we could…"

"We could what, exactly? I'm not exactly saying no, but Blaine, I want to—No, _need_ to know where you plan on this going." Blaine looked down, blushing. He had looked so innocent before, but now he was looking even more innocent. How was this the boy he was thrusting against a few seconds ago?

"Well, you see, Kurt…we've been together for a long time." Blaine shifted uncomfortably. "I read in a magazine once that people usually have…sexual relations…three months in. And and and…Jeff and Nick and even Wes aren't virgins and I was just thinking while you're over here and I have the lube and the condoms and I've seen porn and how it's done and…"

"Blaine." Blaine immediately shut up, which he should have done to begin with because quite frankly that was an embarrassing speech he just graced Kurt with. "We can wait. I'd prefer if we wait to give you time to think. We haven't seen each other one on one in a long time, and we have all week. I don't want you to think you have to do this because some magazine tells you or because your friends have done it. This isn't like getting your ears pierced, Blaine. Once you do it, it can't just go away and heal up. I want you to do it because _you're_ ready and _you_ want to. You matter, Blaine, and I don't want you to forget that. I don't want you to give anything up that you aren't ready for or do anything that makes you uncomfortable, because, Blaine, I'll be here when you _are_ ready. Sometimes it's hard to make promises and even harder to keep them, but if there is one thing I _can_ promise you, it's that I will never leave you because you aren't ready to do something. Especially not over sex, Blaine. There are a million other ways to show our love."

It was exceptionally hard to give that speech. His dad had given that speech to Kurt when he was younger than Blaine. He'd told Kurt he mattered just like Kurt had told Blaine he mattered. What made it so hard was that this was probably the first time Blaine had _ever_ heard it. It was a shame that his parents hadn't told him this earlier; it was a shame that he was asking Kurt to take his virginity because he saw it in a Cosmo magazine. So Kurt leaned over, cupping the side of Blaine's cheek and kissing his forehead for a second time that day. "I love you, Blaine. Okay?"

Blaine was nodding. "I love you, too, but I still want to…"

"Not today, Blaine. I want you to have time to think about it. To honestly think about it. If you back out of the idea, that's fine. If you don't, we'll take it from there. Okay?" Blaine nodded again. "Are you ready for a bad movie marathon?"

Kurt didn't know when he fell asleep, or what time it was when he finally awoke. He didn't have any intentions of staying at Blaine's, yet he found himself waking up on the sofa. More importantly, on top of Blaine. They had been snuggling, and Kurt shifted his head to rest on Blaine. The rest was history. Blaine laid back and Kurt snuggled on top. They had fallen asleep like that. When he looked up, he saw Blaine awake. He wasn't sure how long Blaine had been awake, and he lost track of what he was even thinking about when Blaine flashed a smile.

"Morning, bright eyes." And like that, the moment was ruined. Kurt playfully smacked at Blaine's chest as he rolled off of him.

"Want me to make you breakfast?" Kurt was already searching through the kitchen for food.

"I was thinking I could make breakfast!" He heard the boy call out.

"I would rather not eat Fruit Loops." He snickered, grabbing the instant pancake mix from the cabinet. It wasn't fancy or special, but it was all they seemed to really have. Blaine finally followed Kurt into the kitchen.

"Shut up, Kurt." Blaine sat on the counter and watched as Kurt made the mix. Once the batter was ready, Blaine dipped his finger in it and smeared it on Kurt's nose. Kurt retaliated, and when Blaine went to go for more he nudged the boy's hand away.

"No way! I want to actually make pancakes. You may not be, but I'm hungry." Kurt sprayed the Pam on the pan and poured the mix, beginning cooking. Blaine slipped behind him, much like he did when at Kurt's apartment, and began unbuttoning Kurt's shirt. Kurt raised an eyebrow, turning back towards Blaine in question.

"How did you even sleep in this?" Kurt's expression didn't change, but he didn't stop Blaine from unbuttoning; he had an undershirt on, anyways. "I had a lot of time to think while you crashed like the old man you are."

"You really know how to woo a guy, Blaine." Blaine finally stopped unbuttoning, and admittedly it was much more comfortable than before.

"Sorry." He kissed at the crook of Kurt's neck. "I was thinking though. I do want to have…sex, with you. I think I'm ready. I mean, I know I am. But you were right about something. I don't want to rush into it. I want it to be perfect. So I was thinking like…we could plan it."

"Plan sex?" Kurt raised an eyebrow again. He'd never actually set a certain amount of time aside for sex.

"_Yes_." Blaine hissed back. "I want it to go perfect. I want everything, the candles and the music and _everything_."

"What date should this old man put in his calendar, then?" Kurt flipped a pancake, trying to ignore the absurdity of this conversation.

"Monday."

"Well, then, we need to have a serious talk then." Blaine looked confused. "About sex?" And then Blaine was horrified. "If you can't talk to me about sex, then you aren't ready to have sex." And once again, his expression changed, trying to feign bravery and like he wasn't totally discomforted by the idea. "Great, then. We can talk about it over pancakes."

The rest of the time Kurt made pancakes, Blaine looked completely and utterly horrified. He tried to make it look otherwise, but the nerves were getting the best of him. It was obvious his parents hadn't taken the time to talk to him about sex before, otherwise it may not have been so embarrassing for him. Talking to his parents about it was a lot worse than talking to his boyfriend about it… of course, his boyfriend was also his teacher…

Either way, when they sat down, Blaine mechanically put syrup and butter on his pancakes. Kurt did the same, but used much less of both. The sound of their utensils clanking filled the room for a while. Kurt finally made the first move to talk.

"Do you have any questions?" Blaine refused to make eye contact.

"No. I'm pretty sure I know how it all works." He nodded awkwardly.

"Blaine, I'm serious. You do know it's completely normal and common for couples to talk about sex before they have sex, right? It's unhealthy not to." Kurt continued eating his pancakes, hoping Blaine would calm down and take all of this more seriously.

"Well…we need…lube? I mean, I have some, and…"

"I have lube. And condoms." Kurt intercepted.

"Condoms?"

"Yes, condoms. To prevent the spread of STDs and to prevent pregnancy, but we don't have to worry about the latter." Blaine's eyes were wide and questioning. "What?"

"Do you have…an STD?"

"What? No! No."

"Then why do we need one…?" Kurt stared at Blaine.

"It's safe. I mean—I know you're a virgin, but not everyone you might have sex with will be. I mean—"

"You're not?" Blaine stared back at Kurt for a moment, obviously getting his answer out of the look on Kurt's face. "No, I mean, I should have expected you to. It just didn't really occur to me. But," Blaine blushed, looking at his pancakes intensely. "I mean, if you're sure you're clean, I'd still prefer if we didn't use one. I mean, I've heard it's better without and I was just thinking…"

"I'd prefer if you got in the habit of using one."

"_Please_, Kurt. Just…please?" Kurt pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. It was hard to tell Blaine no. It had _always_ been hard to tell Blaine no, but now it was especially hard.

"We'll see how the moment goes, but Blaine, you should really consider getting in the habit…"

"I know. Just this once. Please?"

"We'll see." Kurt sipped on his orange juice, trying to keep calm. The situation was becoming awkward, even for him, and he was getting antsy. He had shifted in his seat quite a few times from the nerves and he hoped Blaine hadn't noticed.

"And I'll top?" Kurt nearly spit out his juice. He had to force the liquid down his throat. "I mean, I've never really imagined you topping, no offense. You just seem like a bottom."

"You—well—actually…" Kurt tried to clear his head. Blaine imagining Kurt bottoming stuck in his head. That, and the fact that this boy probably based too many of his opinions off of porn. "No. I was thinking—well, that I would. I mean, it's your first time."

"…We'll see." Blaine looked up with a mocking smile. They stared at each other before finally laughing. Partially from nerves and partially from just how awkward the entire situation felt. Kurt reached a hand over the table and Blaine mimicked the gesture so they could hold hands.

"So, whose place should we "do it" at?" Blaine rolled his eyes, giving Kurt's hand a light squeeze.

"Yours. It's cozy." Kurt raised an eyebrow. "And your bed is bigger." Kurt gave a slight nod in response. "Can I come over early to, um, set up?"

"Set up?"

"I told you, I want it to be perfect." Kurt smiled, reaching in his back pocket. He'd been internally debating whether or not he should do this, but the time seemed right enough. He slid the item he'd just retrieved from his pocket across the table, Blaine's eyes going wide. "A key?" Kurt nodded.

"I've been carrying it around for a while, trying to figure the right time. You've more or less implied that your parents aren't the most…accepting of people, and I'm not always home. I just—if anything happens, I want you to have a place to go. You're always welcome, mkay?" Blaine nodded, taking the key and adding it to his own key ring. He smiled, playing with the new addition and Kurt watched, mentally beating himself up every time he remembered how old Blaine was.

Kurt did finally go home, though. Blaine reminded him to be ready for Monday. How could he forget? They parted with a sweet kiss before Kurt made his way home.

Sunday passed dreadfully slowly. Blaine had sent a few texts about shopping for "stuff" for the next day. He refused to mention what though, which made everything so much worse. Kurt was nearly dying from curiosity Sunday night when he got a text from Blaine asking him to be out of his apartment from noon until two in the afternoon.

_I guess I could, but is that really necessary?_

_Yes, Kurt. I need to set up. Everything needs to be perfect_.

Kurt chewed on his bottom lip. Kurt had been through his first time. He'd been with guys who were intimate and it was their first time. If there was one thing Kurt knew, it was that first times were _never_ perfect. They may be good, but they're never how one imagines. Kurt didn't have the heart to tell Blaine though, or stop him from trying.

They texted until Kurt fell asleep. On his bed, too, for the first time in three days.

Kurt woke up to Blaine unlocking his front door. He shot up, nearly having a heart attack until he saw the mess of curls poking in. He rubbed his eyes, comforted that it was just Blaine. He waved Blaine in and the boy finally skipped through the door, locking it behind him.

"What time is it?" Kurt mumbled, collapsing back into his bed.

"Eleven-ish? I'm sorry, I'm early." Blaine put down the bags he'd carried in with him, and Kurt was tempted to peak and see what he'd brought but Blaine stopped the thought immediately. "No! It's all a surprise. You should be getting up though. I mean, it's kind of late to be sleeping."

"It's _spring break_." Kurt rolled onto his side, just feeling lazy and tired.

"Get up." Blaine jumped onto the bottom of Kurt's bed, causing it to shake. Kurt whined until he finally crawled out from under the sheets. Kurt took note of how Blaine's eyes dragged over him. He then remembered Blaine had never seen him in his boxer briefs, or even without his shirt on.

"If I'd known you were coming over I would have gotten a little more dressed up." Kurt gave an awkward smile, grabbing for the jeans he'd worn yesterday to pull them up. He didn't bother zipping them.

"No, I mean, we're going to do it…have sex, today. I mean, you're going to be naked then."

"What? No. I planned on having sex with my clothes on." Kurt smiled, walking to the kitchen to grab an apple. It'd have to do for breakfast, because he still had to get dressed and ready to leave for a couple of hours. Blaine hit Kurt's shoulder. "I was kidding, obviously. So what do you expect me to do for two hours?"

"You didn't plan anything?" Blaine looked a little guilty.

"Not really. It was a bit of a short notice. Maybe Jesse and I could go on a date?" Blaine stared in horror. "I was kidding, Blaine. I'll probably just sit in a coffee shop. They sometimes have live music and talent." Kurt shrugged.

"Well, then, get ready and do that. I have lots of work to do." Kurt smirked, shaking his head as he went to shower.

Kurt finished his normal routine and was kicked out of his own home. It was weird and sweet that Blaine was going through all of this trouble. He'd never had anyone who wanted to do anything like this for him before. He realized it was partially for Blaine, but it was sweet none the less.

Kurt spent a good twenty minutes just walking around New York City. He didn't have a specific coffee house he was even looking for, just somewhere to relax for a while. When he passed one that had music streaming out from the front door, he walked in and ordered. It was a boring two hours, and he kept checking his phone. He wasn't sure if Blaine would need the two hours in full, or if he might at least text him and entertain him. Blaine didn't. And it did take nearly the whole two hours. At 1:55 PM, Kurt got a text.

_Okay, everything is ready!_

Kurt didn't even rush. Blaine had kicked him out of his own house for two hours, and even if they were for good intentions, Blaine deserved a little bit of punishment in return. And what he stumbled on when he got home was some mixture of hilarity and sweet and horror.

The lights were out, but it wasn't dark, so the light still shone through. There were candles. Candles everyfuckingwhere. Enough candles to raise the temperature a degree or two. There was some instrumental music low in the background, and the smell of food filling the tiny apartment. Roses were littered all over his floor, leading towards the kitchen. Kurt closed the door behind himself a tad too loudly.

"I'm in the kitchen!" Blaine called out in a sing-song voice. Kurt slowly walked that way, trying to take all of this in. When he turned, he saw Blaine in an apron. He still had his clothes on, which Kurt was thankful for. On the counter there was chocolate. Way, way too much chocolate. Enough chocolate to feed all the children in Africa. There was fruit and an assortment of other goods to be dipped in said chocolate.

"Blaine, what did—what is all of this?"

"I wanted everything to be perfect." Blaine took the chocolate stained apron off. Kurt wasn't even sure how melting chocolate could be messy or difficult, but Blaine had found a way to make it so. His only response was a nod. He _really_ wanted to go along with all of this, but it just seemed so awkward. "I—I made chocolate?" Kurt nodded again, eyes still wide. "Do you want a strawberry?" His voice was getting higher by the second.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's—get to it." Blaine took Kurt by the hand and led him to the counter, lifting him up onto it. Kurt was surprised he was strong enough to do that, eyebrows raised. Blaine just smirked, grabbing the strawberry and dipping it in chocolate. He blew on it, the chocolate still hot, before pressing it against Kurt's lips. Kurt responded, biting down. It was taking everything not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He'd _never_ done this. Sex had always just been sex, and Blaine was trying so hard so he didn't want to be rude. Just when he thought he was going to break and laugh, Blaine's lips met Kurt's, firm and moving languidly. Blaine had to stand on his tip toes to reach Kurt like this and it was kind of adorable and Kurt was beginning to think he could get into this.

"You had chocolate on your lips." Blaine mumbled, not entirely parting from Kurt so he could feel the vibrations against his lips. Kurt didn't even have a chance to respond as Blaine nipped down on his bottom lip. _Yes_. He could _definitely_ get into this.

Blaine's hands moved along Kurt's thighs as they continued kissing. Kurt hardly even realized he'd wrapped his legs around Blaine until Blaine pulled away, untying the legs from him. He chuckled low, in a way Kurt had never heard from the boy before. It was dark and sexy. "Not yet, Kurt. I'm not letting all this fruit go to waste."

"We have to eat _all_ of the fruit?" Kurt whined, trying to pull Blaine back.

"No, but we have to eat more than _one _strawberry." Kurt rolled his eyes.

"We don't _have_ to."

"Kurt." There was a tone of warning. Blaine was trying to be nice about it, and he had gone through quite a bit of work to try to make this go well. Kurt let out a sigh before grabbing a cut up banana, dipping it, blowing on it, and eating it. It felt less sexy when Blaine wasn't the one doing it, but he really just wanted to eat to get to whatever Blaine had planned next. Something told Kurt this was just the beginning.

Blaine kept giving Kurt fruit, neglecting to eat any himself. Kurt was starting to feel really full and guilty for eating this much chocolate. "Blaine, if you want me to gain weight, you're doing a great job. Seriously, you haven't had a single bite." Blaine rolled his eyes, dipping a fruit into the chocolate and putting it in his mouth. Kurt didn't even have a chance to stop and remind him to blow on it.

"**Fuck**." Blaine was spitting the fruit hurriedly into the garbage, but assumedly the damage was already done. Kurt wasn't entirely sure what to do to make it better, so he pulled Blaine back over to him.

"Would a kiss make this better?"

"Not really." Blaine was pouting, and it was kind of cute but certainly not a turn on. Kurt still leaned in, lips working against Blaine's when they met.

"It's going to be fine." Kurt offered a weak smile, hopping off the counter. "Maybe melted chocolate wasn't the best idea?"

"Yeah…yeah. Maybe not." Blaine took Kurt's hand, leading Kurt into the other room. When they got to the sofa, Blaine grabbed a fist full of Kurt's shirt and nudged him onto the sofa. Kurt went down with a muffled expression of surprise and an "umph" when he hit the sofa. Blaine was crawling on top of him, and he began to kiss at Kurt's jaw line before he stopped. Kurt let out a needy whine, because he'd never really had to deal with _this much_ foreplay and it was becoming less sexy and more frustrating.

"What now?"

"Can you hear the music? Maybe I should go turn it up."

"_Oh my god_. Leave it alone. It's fine." Kurt was trying to pull Blaine back down, but Blaine pulled out of Kurt's grip to go turn the music up. Propping himself up onto his elbows, he watched Blaine. "I'm starting to wonder if you really want to do this or if you're just stalling." Blaine looked back with a glare.

"Of course I want to do this, Kurt. I told you, I want it to be _perfect_." Kurt groaned, laying back down in annoyance. Blaine finally returned, crawling back on top of Kurt. Kurt was sure the moment had been sufficiently ruined until he felt Blaine's lips against his neck, tilting his head back to give Blaine more access. Blaine took the cue, tongue running along the length before he began to suck. Somewhere deep down, Kurt realized he'd get a hickey from this, but somehow he didn't care because it was _Blaine_.

Blaine's hands began to explore Kurt unashamedly, and Kurt didn't protest. They slid down his chest, fingers creeping under the fabric of Kurt's shirt when they reached the bottom. They moved up, tugging the shirt up with them. Blaine only parted from Kurt's neck to pull the shirt off. The kisses began to move down Kurt's chest after that, kissing at his collar bone. Blaine licked, and he'd start to suck before he began moving places again, never staying in one place to leave another hickey.

Kurt whined when Blaine made it to his nipples, allowing his teeth to scrape over them. "_Fuuuck_, Blaine." It'd been so long since anyone had given him any attention of this sort. His fingers went to run through Blaine's hair, but were unwelcomingly met by gel. He found Blaine's shoulders, though, and squeezed onto them momentarily. Blaine looked up with a smirk, returning to the erogenous zone with delight.

Kurt's hands began searching, moving down to tug Blaine's cardigan off. Once he was successful in that feat, he began to try to pull Blaine's shirt off afterwards. He couldn't help but wonder why Blaine had even worn so many layers to begin with. Realizing Kurt's trouble, Blaine sat up and removed the garment. Before he leaned back over Kurt, he soaked up the scene of Kurt under him, straddled over Kurt's waist. He smirked, fingers tracing a line down Kurt's pale skin, sending a shiver down Kurt's spine.

Blaine was then leaning over again, going in for another kiss when their noses bumped. It wasn't hard or enough to make either one of them bleed, just enough to make them uncomfortable and aware of how dark it was.

"Blaine?" Kurt looked up, hands on Blaine's waist.

"Hm?"

"I love the romantic lighting and everything, I really do, but can we please save that for the next time? I mean, I want to see you?" Kurt's brows furrowed, nervous to offend Blaine. Blaine's shoulders dropped, lips turning down.

"This isn't going well, is it?" He was slumping with most of his weight falling back on his haunches above Kurt, and quite frankly, he looked very puppy-like at the moment. Kurt gave his waist a light squeeze.

"It was a very nice gesture, Blaine. You're a bit of a hopeless romantic, and it's very, very cute." He had to swallow, actually trying to sound sexy. "But I want to see you when you come." He knew that'd make Blaine brighten up a bit, and it did. Blaine scrambled to get up, quickly blowing candles out. Kurt also got up, turning the lights on. Once every candle was out (and Kurt made sure it was every candle; he didn't want his apartment burning down while he fucked Blaine), Kurt took Blaine's hand and nudged him on the bed.

Kurt's hands ran along Blaine's bare chest, smirking against Blaine's lips as they kissed. It started out well enough, deep and slow, but their kisses grew needier and Blaine began playing with Kurt's waistband. So Kurt parted, crawling down between Blaine's legs. Blaine propped himself up on his elbows as Kurt unbuttoned his pants, tugging them down with Blaine's boxers. Kurt was only a tad disappointed when he saw that Blaine was only half hard; the boy was probably nervous. Kurt had every intention of changing that, though.

Kurt curled his fingers around Blaine, leaning close as if he was going to put his lips on him. He could feel Blaine tense in excitement, whimpering as Kurt just let a small breath out along his cock. It wasn't as if he were panting on Blaine; it was just enough to let Blaine know he was close, so, so close, but not actually on him.

"Blaine?" he murmured, close enough to Blaine's length so he was sure Blaine could feel the vibrations hum along the skin.

"Y-yeah?" He was trying so hard to keep still, and he was still there, propped up and watching Kurt.

"I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to have you gasping my name, clutching onto sheets, begging for more." Blaine was hard, so Kurt finally let his tongue slip out, letting go of the cock to lick a strip from the base to the tip. Blaine let his elbows out from under him, collapsing back onto the bed with a low moan. Kurt looked up under his lashes to catch a glimpse of Blaine before continuing, parting his lips over the tip of Blaine's cock, smirking around it when he heard a sharp intake of breath and a vague murmur that sounded something like a broken, "Oh my God." From there, he let his tongue do the work, swirling around the tip and dragging along the ridge and down the underside. Blaine was already squirming, muttering nonsense with the occasional moan of Kurt's name. It wasn't until Blaine bucked uncontrollably that Kurt pulled away (of course, he expected Blaine to eventually try and his hands the boy's hips, effectively pinning him down), smirking when Blaine panted out a whine. Satisfied with himself, Kurt removed the jeans and boxers that had only been pulled down to Blaine's thighs all the way off, tossing them carelessly onto the floor. Kurt slid his hands up and down Blaine's thighs, content with the picture below him.

"Are you going to take off your pants? Or do you plan on never letting me see you naked?" Blaine whimpered, hand reaching down and slowly stroking himself. Blaine's cheeks were pink, partially from desire and partially embarrassed that he was stroking himself in front of Kurt.

"That's a good idea, actually." Kurt joked as he unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down and kicking them onto the floor before doing the same with his boxer-briefs. Blaine was watching, and he let out a low moan when Kurt's cock sprung out from its confines.

Kurt crawled over Blaine, reaching to his nightstand, pulling out the drawer, and grabbing the container of lube. Blaine shifted strangely beneath him, and when he spoke it was quiet and not uncertain, but definitely worried. "On a scale of one to ten, how much is it going to hurt?" Blaine looked up at Kurt, eyes searching for some sort of comfort.

Kurt paused to look at Blaine, a moment's uncertainty crossing his features before he posed the question on his mind. "Blaine, are you sure you're—"

"Yes," Blaine assured, pushing himself up on an elbow again. "I want to do this. I want this with you."

Kurt considered him for a moment and nodded. "Then all you have to do is just breathe, okay? It'll be a little uncomfortable at first, but if you remember to breathe it'll be fine." Kurt closed his eyes for a moment, trying to push away the guilt of how young Blaine was. Kurt squeezed some of the lube out on his fingers, warming it up a bit as he spread it against them. Blaine had adjusted, accommodating for the fact that Kurt was about to be in between him.

Kurt moved his fingers against Blaine's entrance, moving slowly as he pushed one finger in. Blaine gasped, a moment of shock at the new feeling before he remembered to breathe. He relaxed against Kurt, releasing a shuddering breath, and Kurt moved his finger in and out. "Just tell me when you can take—"

"More…" Blaine breathed out. Kurt stared at him uncertainly for a moment—it didn't feel like _enough_ preparation for someone as young as Blaine, for a virgin—but nodded, adding the middle finger to his index and ever so slowly pushing in again. A sharp intake of breath followed, quickly followed by a deeply exhaled moan. Kurt curled his fingers in him, and Blaine released a low moan when Kurt hit the spot, squirming beneath him and tossing his head back, reaching blindly with his hands for something to hold on to and finding his ground only in the sheets. "Moooore…please, Kurt…" Blaine begged, his voice raspy and urgent this time.

"Blaine I've barely put two—" Kurt kept moving his fingers in and out, stretching Blaine out as he tried to reason with the boy.

"More…" Kurt's brows were furrowed, but he nodded and added more lube before adding a third finger. Kurt made sure to go especially slow. Blaine's fingers were gripped onto the sheets, knuckled white, as he moved the fingers in and out. Kurt continued pushing in slowly, knuckle by knuckle, giving Blaine time to get used to the feeling. He twisted his fingers, curled them just so, and stretched as much as he dared. Blaine ventured to press his body down into Kurt's hand.

"I want you to fuck me." Blaine eventually said, nipping at his lip.

Kurt stared for a moment, removing his fingers from Blaine. Blaine whimpered at the empty feeling. "Yeah, maybe you should get on your hands and knees? I mean…It's just easier the first time like that…" Kurt tried to explain. He was genuinely nervous for Blaine, who seemed overly eager to do this. He was already scrambling up and on his hands knees in a flash. He looked back at Kurt.

"Please just fuck me? N-no condom, please. I want you inside of me. I want you to come inside of me." Kurt chewed his lips, debating the options. It was hard to think clearly, Blaine's ass right in front of him, spread and ready for him. All Kurt could do was nod as he grabbed the bottle of lube again, pouring more in his hand and warming it up before spreading it over the length of his cock. Kurt got up onto his knees, positioning himself behind Blaine before slowly pushing in. At first he only dared to push the tip inside, keeping a firm grip on Blaine's hips. He moved slowly, inch by inch, until he was nestled deep inside Blaine, whose hand slowly gave out beneath him. He managed to keep his ass in the air, ready and wanting as he kept whimpering, "Fuck me" over and over again.

Kurt gripped onto Blaine, keeping his pace slow at first, but it was so hard when he heard Blaine begging under him. Blaine kept trying to push back into Kurt, sloppily meeting each thrust with a little more force than Kurt was comfortable with. But Blaine was persistent and, finally, Kurt gave in, hips thrusting back and forth into Blaine. He could tell when he hit Blaine's prostate because Blaine would make this positively obscene moan, expletives and nonsensical, jumbled words intertwined with each moan.

Blaine's fingers were tightened in the fabric of the bedding and all the muscles in his back and shoulders visibly tensed as he finally came. It only took a few more thrusts before Kurt was coming too, tossing his head back with a load moan, the warmth creeping over him with a dizzying pleasure before it all flowed away. Kurt was panting when he pulled out from Blaine, who collapsed onto the clean side of the bed and on his back.

Kurt took a moment to watch Blaine like this. His cheeks were pink, the blood taking a moment to flow away. His cock was going limp again. He had a light sheen of sweat over him. His eyes were half shut, and over all, he looked pleased. Kurt crawled over him, laying on top of the boy. Blaine let out a groan.

"Get off." The boy was obviously exhausted and probably a tad overheated.

"It's a mess on that side. Your cum is everywhere." Kurt placed a kiss on Blaine's shoulder.

"Then go sleep on the sofa." Blaine's lips twitched up into a smile.

"How about you get up so I can change the sheets?" Kurt got onto his knees, trying to pull Blaine up.

"I don't want to mooooove!" Blaine was using all his weight against Kurt, a smile plastered to his face.

"Get your butt up or I'll change all the locks." Kurt wasn't serious, and he was sure Blaine could tell as he was still smiling when he got up, but it did get Blaine up.

Kurt changed the sheets, and both of them curled in the fresh set. Kurt flicked through the channels of the television as Blaine rested his head on Kurt's chest. There wasn't much on, so Kurt left it on CNN before looking down at Blaine, kissing the top of his head.

"Kurt? I love you." Blaine nuzzled into Kurt, one arm laid across Kurt lazily.

"I love you, too." Kurt closed his eyes and they fell asleep like that, left to their own world for whatever short time they had. Kurt knew soon enough Blaine would be graduating and they wouldn't have to hide anymore, but it felt like a forever away.

Kurt woke up some time before Blaine, who had rolled away from Kurt in his sleep. So, Kurt took this opportunity to prop himself and watch Blaine. What use to feel creepy felt natural. Blaine looked so peaceful and relaxed. Kurt fell asleep again while watching him like this.

This time Kurt woke up, Blaine was cuddled up against him again. The channel on the television had changed to ESPN and Blaine gave a sheepish grin. "My parents watch CNN. Admittedly, they only watch it to say how wrong it is. They prefer Fox News." Kurt nodded, trying to understand. Burt usually just watched the local news and Kurt only put it on CNN or Fox News when there was nothing else on. "Want me to make breakfast? I may not be an omelet master like you, but I'm pretty good at getting the perfect ratio of milk to cereal."

"Yeah, I'll just…vacuum up some of the rose petals."

"But then they'll all be wasted!" Blaine looked over, slightly defeated.

"They're going to start to wither." Blaine still looked horrified. "Fine. I'll start to pick them up and find something to do with them." Blaine smiled.

The both of them rolled out of bed and Blaine started to walk to the kitchen. His walk was so awkward, more of a waddle, and he looked back embarrassed. "I'm sore." He tried to explain, blushing. Kurt tried to give a comforting smile. This was the unglamorous part to sex, the part that Blaine had never seen if or when he'd watched porn.

So, Blaine went in the kitchen and Kurt grabbed a bag and began to pick up rose petals by the hand full. When he'd been kicked out of his own house for two hours, he hadn't expected Blaine to make a mess. But now Kurt had to pick up rose petals on the floor, candles all over, and clean the numerous bowls and pots Blaine had used to melt chocolate. Kurt just reminded himself that this was one of those things that he'd look back on and laugh about.

Kurt had finished picking up the flower petals when Blaine wobbled into the living room with their cereal. "You didn't have any good cereal." Blaine sat down, putting Kurt's cereal on the table and beginning to eat his Special K with a frown.

"You mean I didn't have anything frosted or fruity?"

"Exactly."

"Because they're not exactly good for you."

"But I love Captain Crunch." Blaine was trying to adjust himself on the sofa, trying to make sitting more comfortable. He let out a sigh when he realized there would be no comfortable position. Blaine finished eating first, putting his empty bowl on the coffee table and snuggling against Kurt's side as he continued eating. "Are things going to change between us, Kurt?"

When Kurt looked down, he saw Blaine looking back up at him. His eyes were wide and full of worry and hope. Kurt put down his cereal, turning a little to face Blaine. "Yeah, they're going to change." Kurt cupped the side of Blaine's face. "But they don't have to change for the worse, mkay?" Blaine nodded, a half smile adorning his face.


End file.
